


I'll Be Something Better Yet

by ElisabethMonroe



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically anyone who was remotely connected to the military in the movies and comics is in this fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Cap Steve, Explicit Sexual Content, Injury Recovery, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Shrunkyclunks, Spec-Ops, SpecOps Soldier Bucky, Special Operations, The Invaders, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, and everyone loves bucky so damn much, brief but continuous discussion of sexual abuse, military typical violence, pre-injury bucky barnes, they have a dog and i love him so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 85,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: What if no one in the world knew who you were?Bucky Barnes is a damn fine soldier, and so is everyone on his SpecOps team. They’re one of the most elite teams assembled, off the books and on the down low. A ghost team like Seal Team 6, without the drama. Their mission? Eradicate insurgent groups of Nazi leftovers recuperating in the Middle East. It’s not exactly what Bucky thought he was signing up for, but it strokes his ego, so he’s fine with it. He’s even mostly fine with leaving his very new boyfriend at home to do whatever it is that Steve does.While left at home, Steve has his own missions, off the books and on the down low. An experimental team that the rest of the government cannot know about. So when he and his team are given location and extraction orders, he’s a little surprised to be paired with a second team. Hopefully he can knock this out before Bucky gets sent back home. The only question he’s left with is how the hell he’s supposed to find a ghost.And how the hell is Bucky supposed to remember who he is when he’s spent six months in the desert being nobody?





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline? I don't know her. Consistency? I don't know that one either.
> 
> A long labor of love done for the Cap Big Bang, with the wonderful artists [WalkingStardust](http://walkingstardust.tumblr.com/) and [Childofwintre](http://childofwintre.tumblr.com/) They're both co-creators on this as well, if you'd like to look at their AO3! They're so, so, so amazing
> 
> Fic title from the wonderful Bleachers song "All of My Heroes" (which is on that playlist. Don't believe me? Go listen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here's a Happy Bucky Barnes playlist to listen to while you read. Unfortunately, it's mostly only applicable to this chapter: [Bucky Barnes--Happy](https://open.spotify.com/user/1254622999/playlist/3JbiQ2NeI4L7C6lOsrQpx1?si=ZVsYJi07QIGoSAeDRnRANw)

Bucky’s body slotted perfectly with the one behind him. It slotted less perfectly with the one in front of him, but she had to know he wasn’t going home with her. She had to see the large hands gripping onto his hips and keeping him pulled back against a wall of solid muscle. She had to know she wasn’t going to be able to compete with that. They were in a gay club, for fuck’s sake. That didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t enjoy her grinding on him while it lasted.

He dropped his head back against the guy behind him’s shoulder and was met with a hot mouth on the edge of his temple, the corner of his eye, the high curve of a cheekbone. Bucky’s hand found one on his hip and dragged it under his shirt slowly. The guy’s fingers and palm were as hot as his mouth and Bucky was getting a little heady when it paired with his solid hips and thighs and groin behind Bucky.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, moving the guy’s hands as he liked over his body and curling his fingers in the guys short, sweat-drenched hair. Eventually the girl got bored and disappeared. The song changed, he thought, though he couldn’t tell because every song sounded exactly the same. The lights grew brighter and then dimmed. He wasn’t even drunk. He was just so fucking high off this guy that he couldn’t think straight. He could feel bruises pulsing up and down his neck and his thighs were still weak from a hand’s brief transgression into his shorts.

Eventually, the guy’s hand fell to Bucky’s waist and Bucky let him pull him through the crowd. At first he thought they were going to the bathroom and Bucky’s body vaguely protested because the bathrooms here were shit. But the guy pulled them back to the door and searched in Bucky’s pocket for him to grab his coat card. The cool air was such a relief that Bucky didn’t bother putting it on right away. He turned his face upwards and imagined the sweat cooling off his skin. At least his sweat could cool down. The rest of him definitely wasn’t any time soon.

“You’re gonna catch your death if you don’t put on your jacket,” the guy laughed. Bucky melted at the sound and he didn’t think he’d melted at a voice since he was in high school. Suddenly his jacket was draped over his shoulders and Bucky instinctively burrowed into it.

“I think you just don’t want me showing off the goods to the rest of the world,” Bucky scoffed. Alright, so maybe he was a little more drunk than he’d initially thought.

“They’re not my goods to regulate,” the guy laughed and Bucky melted all over again. He wrapped his arm around the guy’s waist and burrowed into him instead of his own jacket.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, just to keep himself awake instead of the trance like state he had walked himself into.

“It’s Steve. You knew that earlier.” The guy didn’t laugh this time, but Bucky could hear him containing it in his voice.

“Earlier was a long time ago,” Bucky mumbled. He turned his face into Steve’s shoulder and felt Steve’s arm tighten around Bucky’s own. “Gonna take you home and practice that name.”

Steve snorted and it was obvious he was still trying to restrain himself. “Gonna take you home and get you into bed.”

“With you.”

“You want me to stay?” Steve asked. Now he sounded dubious and Bucky looked up at him to find a fair eyebrow arched high on his head. Bucky bet he was real good at reprimanding people. Probably had the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ speech on lock.

“Oh, God, you don’t have kids do you?” Bucky groaned.

Now Steve let himself laugh again. “What part of me makes you think I have kids?”

“You seem like such a dad.”

“Do you have a daddy kink?” Steve asked. There went his eyebrow again, but there was something amused in his expression as well.

“God, I hate you. Why did I waste my night with you?” Even for all his complaining, Bucky was definitely still folded into Steve’s side and his mouth was working lazy half kisses any time he could get to exposed skin.

“I think I was holding you too tightly to let you go.”

Bucky hummed in agreement. “Felt good,” he murmured. “Gonna feel even better on my bed.”

“We should get you into a cab.”

“I’m only a few blocks away. Ten minute walk, tops.” He stumbled to a stop, trying not to let it go right through him just solid Steve was. “Look at me. Look at me.” He reached up to hold onto Steve’s jaw and forced him to look at Bucky’s face. “I’m barely even tipsy. This isn’t ‘cause I’m drunk. You’re just…” He grunted and flapped his hand around. “So you best not think that we’re gonna get to my apartment and you’re not gonna fuck--”

Bucky yelped unbecomingly as he was shoved up against a store front. He  wasn’t sure which one of them moved Bucky’s legs apart, but there was suddenly Steve’s thigh between his and Bucky dropped his head back. His fingers scrambled uselessly over Steve’s back and couldn’t find any purchase in his taut coat back.

“You gonna order me around all night, or you gonna walk ten minutes?” Steve asked lowly. His smirk was so fucking beautiful Bucky thought he could die and be greeted by that smile at the gates.

The guy’s hand went to Bucky’s hair and tugged on it. For a brief moment, Bucky’s brain suddenly went through all the different ways to get this guy off of him. He could probably at least break a radius or ulna, if not both. Or kick the guy’s balls so hard, he choked on his own dick. Or break his nose bad enough they had to remove it.

But then his body caught up and the military hadn’t found a way to control that yet, because his hips were pumping against Steve’s thigh while his fingers found Steve’s hair again and he moaned as Steve tugged at his.

After that, Bucky honestly had no idea how they got home. He couldn’t bear to part with all of Steve’s body invading his own on the street, so the walk must have been awkward, all tangled limbs and stopping to make out more.

Bucky didn’t come back to himself until he was suddenly on his bed, tearing of his shirt and throwing it aside while Steve straddled his hips, clumsily removing his clothes too. He was all too much body and self consciousness. Bucky had seen him on the dance floor and knew that all of those muscles could be used gracefully, but that was lacking now in their fervor to get undressed.

Bucky felt them both pause a moment though, pants half undone, one of the Steve’s boots clinging to his toes over the side of the bed. Bucky sat up and reached for worn silver dog tags hanging in the middle of Steve’s perfect fucking chest. (Like, holy shit, he looked like a Ken doll, if they ever made Ken with tits. Bucky already had plans for that chest)

“You served?” he asked, brushing his thumb over Steve’s name etched in the metal.

Steve reached out for Bucky’s and his fingers were burning hot even just brushing over his skin. “You did too,” he said.

“Still am,” Bucky admitted. He didn’t know why it felt like an admission. He didn’t owe club hook ups details about his life. It wasn’t like he’d been leading this guy on for three months and was suddenly going to disappear. “You?”

“Nah, got out a while ago.”

“Why? Served your time and left?”

Steve blushed and it was just as perfect as the rest of him, traveling down to his nipples before slowing. “No. I mean, I guess. I was in for longer than four years. Ranked quickly and was in on the important meetings. Just realized I didn’t remember why I signed up or if I was even doing the right thing anymore.”

That was too fucking deep for a one night stand. Bucky had just been hoping for ten minutes in bed with this guy and then the rest of the night asleep. Maybe in the guy’s arms. Maybe not. Whatever. This shit was for three month relationships.

He grunted instead of answering and leaned up to kiss Steve hard, pulling him down as he collapsed back against the bed. Steve relaxed over him, body suddenly inhabiting that grace that Bucky had seen on the dance floor. Steve managed to get Bucky’s pants off, which was no small feat, and then his own followed, without Steve’s mouth ever leaving Bucky’s jaw or throat.

For all his shit talking about a daddy kink, this dude definitely had a thing for throats. And for Bucky’s hair. Damn. People had played with his hair all his life. His brothers in arms joked that they were certain he was going to cry when they got their heads shaved, and Bucky had kind of wanted to. The first time he came without grabbing himself was because a girl had her fingers in his hair while he was going down on her. But no one had ever worked him over like Steve was right now. It was like he thought Bucky was going to go underwater if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

Bucky was damn well going under water now. Maybe it was narcissism or voyeurism or something that hadn’t been named yet--though Bucky highly doubted it--but Bucky loved watching himself have sex. Hell, maybe it was just from years of watching too damn much porn. In the hotel at prom, the room he and his date had shared had a wall length mirror and Bucky had come four times in one night. And pissed off his date because he was looking at the mirror and not the other guy.

He had never wanted a mirror above his bed as badly as he wanted one right now. He could feel pounds and pounds of muscles working over Steve’s back, rippling and moving and shifting. Bucky wanted to see it all in action, wanted to see his ass as he pounded into Bucky, wanted to see the way their thighs overlapped, and his hand in Steve’s hair, and the taper of Steve’s waist, and the way they fit over each other like they were carved from the same piece of rock.

He was shocked back into the real world when Steve groaned over him, finally giving Bucky’s neck a rest. They were both covered in sweat, and if he didn’t feel so damn good, Bucky’s stomach would be sore. Be it from the dancing or from the thrusting, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. It was all the same thing.

“Are you--” he started to ask before Steve’s mouth was sealed over his, hips taking on a frantic pace. Bucky moaned into his mouth and scratched his nails up Steve’s back. It took a pitiful ten seconds for Bucky to come between their bodies with Steve’s stomach rubbing against him with every thrust. But Steve wasn’t far behind, so Bucky couldn’t be too upset.

Steve stayed over him for a few more seconds. It was driving Bucky up another wall. He turned his face into Steve’s neck and took a deep breath of sweat and spilled drinks and cologne under all of it. He worked a mark against Steve’s skin and then laid back against the pillow. Steve eventually rolled off of him, pulling off the condom Bucky hadn’t thought to ask about and throwing it away. They turned into each other’s space at the same time, foreheads knocking together and noses brushing.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve breathed, brushing a strand of hair out of Bucky’s face. Bucky wanted to make some smart comment back about how Steve wasn’t hard on the eyes either, but Steve had said it so reverently that he couldn’t imagine ruining the moment.

Why the fuck were they having moments? It was a goddamn fuck. They shouldn’t even be talking.

“When do you ship out again?” Steve asked. Bucky brought his hand up to the one on his face and threaded their fingers together instead of answering immediately. Steve seemed content to just wait.

“You know,” Bucky finally said with a little bit of husk in his voice, “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. He turned onto his back and Bucky followed after him, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder and looping Steve’s arms over his chest.

“We’re training for a special ops mission. They’re getting gear and people together right now, so they sent us home. Be pretty fucking sad if they put together an elite military team and half of them got taken out in the middle of the desert.”

Steve cringed, but there was no other way to say it. “So you’re wasting your time in shitty clubs instead?”

“Hey, you were at that shitty club too,” Bucky laughed. He grinned up at Steve and found that gorgeous grin waiting for him. He kissed it over and over and over, trying to remember exactly how it felt on his mouth.

This was very bad.

Steve kissed back just as desperately, but Bucky could already feel exhaustion settling into the man’s body. His fingers played restlessly with the blanket, pulling it closer to his shoulders every few seconds. Eventually, Bucky backed off, but only barely. He slowly kissed down Steve’s arm until he could lay his head on his own pillow.

“You’re on the side I normally sleep on,” he yawned, tucking his head against the pillow.

“I can tell. Your shit’s all over that side of the bed,” Steve laughed. He tangled their legs again briefly and kicked a book off the bed for emphasis.

Bucky grunted in agreement and irritation. Steve settled back into the bed and was silent for a few more moments. It was just enough that Bucky was beginning to fall asleep and got startled when Steve suddenly asked, “Do you want your side back?”

“Nah, man. You’re the guest. You get to sleep wherever you want.”

Steve snorted and turned over so he was facing Bucky. He rested a hand on Bucky’s ribs and pulled him a little closer. “Then I’m good here.”

Bucky was so fucked.

 

*  * *

 

“No way, Sam. I’m telling you, this guy is the fucking one,” Steve said. Sweat was dripping from his hairline and down his back. He was another rep away from taking his shirt off, but it’d stay on for now. There were...a lot of bruises over his chest that he didn’t want Sam ragging on him for yet.

“You’ve said that about a few douchebags,” Sam said, adjusting his stance behind Steve’s head and moving his hands more securely around the bar.

“No, Sam, I was with him all night. We talked. And he has this look in his eyes…”

“Ah, so it’s eyes this week? Not a laugh or hands or lips?”

“Shut up. I’m serious! I really like him.”

Steve shoved the bar away from him and reracked it on the hooks above him.

“Man, I don’t know why you think I’ll be able to do anything if you drop that fucking thing on you,” Sam said, looking at the fully loaded weight bar distastefully. “I ain’t gonna be able to heave it off of you.”

“I trust you. And these guns.” Steve flexed an arm in front of his chest and laughed when Sam scoffed.

“What’s it about this guy that has you so hooked?”

“What doesn’t?” Steve sighed. Sam rolled his eyes again and threw a towel at Steve’s face. “He’s funny and kind and, God, Sam, in bed he was just fucking…” He waved a hand around indiscriminately.

“Who’s fucking Rogers?” Riley asked, coming down from the upper floor of the VA gym. He had a good natured grin on his face and threw an arm around Sam’s shoulders, leaning his weight on Sam.

“This guy from a club,” Sam said.

“Hot shit, Rogers. No way?”

“Way,” Sam assured.

Steve blushed and was glad it could be lost under the flush of his work out. “It’s not like that,” he started.

“It’s definitely like that. It’s always like that at clubs.”

“He’s different,” Steve protested.

“Man, no guy is different than the rest of the shitheads at a club.”

“You two go together all the time,” Steve pointed out.

Riley grinned at Sam and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Yeah, but he’s already mine. I didn’t meet him by grinding on him.”

“Well…” Sam drew out with a grin.

“Man, it was _wrestling_ ,” Riley answered. It was a familiar argument and Steve took the opportunity to dry himself off while they teased each other.

“What’s your guy’s name?” Riley asked.

Steve got a goofy look on his face again. “Bucky. It’s a nickname.”

“Better be. That’s a dumb ass name,” Sam snorted.

Steve flung the towel back at him. “Hey, Riley, you wanna take a few laps?”

“I run with you!” Sam objected, sounding hurt.

“Yeah, but I want someone who can keep up with me for now,” Steve said. He only had a split second to untangle himself from the bench before he was taking off around the gym with Sam hot on his tail. They were both laughing too hard for how fast they were running.

Riley caught Steve around the waist when he had made a full circle of the gym and Steve tried to pry his arms off. “No, you cheater,” he laughed before Sam was tackling him from behind.

“Oh my God, get off of me,” Steve laughed again. He could definitely easily throw Sam off of himself but that would spoil the game and the good mood. And it would also pit Riley against him, which was formidable. “You weigh seven hundred tons.”

Sam laughed too and rolled off of him. “Did you get this guy’s number?” Riley asked, hauling Sam to his feet with a gladiator hold.

Steve was always mesmerized by the ease and grace and surety that Riley and Sam moved together. He was more than jealous of his friends’ obvious adoration and their relationship in general. He knew they struggled the same as anyone else, but it was particularly easy to forget that when looking at them. It made something deep inside of him ache so hard he wanted to physically be sick.

“Steve can’t get no one’s number,” Sam snorted. “Wouldn’t dare leave it and he only dates douchebags who won’t give it.”

Steve’s cheeks colored. “He was asleep when I woke up.”

Both Sam and Riley’s faces fell in mirror images of horror. “You didn’t leave ‘the one’ sleeping in bed without a word, did you?” Riley asked. Ever the romantic, Steve was sure the idea broke his heart.

“No. I left a note.”

“You stuck it to his forehead, didn’t you?” Sam said, unamused. Steve smiled slightly. “Dude, that is so rude. You need to cut that shit.”

Riley snickered next to him and pulled Sam towards the bench press. They moved in synchronicity again and Steve glanced away.

“Have you heard from him?” Riley asked as he helped Sam unload the bar after removing all of the extra weight Steve had added. Sam was strong, but he wasn’t bar bending strong.

“No, not yet. But I haven’t exactly been keeping an eye on my phone,” Steve lied. As he spoke, he was pulling out his phone to check the empty home screen. His dog stared back up at him, happy and oblivious. He shut the phone off and threw it towards his bag of clothes.

“Cheer up, man. I’m sure you fucked him into oblivion and he’s still just sleeping it off,” Riley said, his smile bright and earnest and just this side of filthy. Steve never questioned how he and Sam ended up together, but moments like that made it all the clearer.

Bucky hadn’t seemed fucked into oblivion. He was tactile as a cat afterwards, but he’d been all about Steve touching him in the club too. Steve was fairly certain that was just a piece of Bucky’s personality no matter how fucked out he was. And his eyes hadn’t lost their intensity, before during or after. Bucky had been as alert and ready after Steve had fucked him as anyone Steve had ever seen walking down the street, in the desert even.

Maybe that was it. He wasn’t giving enough weight to the inextricable soldier in Bucky’s brain and body.

“Do you know anything else about him? Like a coffee shop or something? Maybe you could run into him again,” Riley suggested. He was leaning on the edge of the bench press, not being at all useful to Sam. But Sam didn’t seem to be struggling.

“Dude, I literally dragged him out of the club and into his bed. We didn’t get a lot of talking done.” They didn’t need to know about that moment when Bucky and Steve just sat there, dog tags in hand, staring at each other. Even if he never saw Bucky again, he was pretty certain he wasn’t going to ever forget that.

“There’s always time for talking,” Riley said sagely. It was ruined by Sam scoffing beneath him.

“You should take your own advice and follow it. Or shove it up your ass.”

Riley let go of the bar Sam was holding and let him struggle with the weight until it was almost touching his chest. Sam gasped out a breath once he was able to rerack the weight. “God, I hate you. How did you ever seduce me?”

Riley grinned, bright and goofy and shrugged. “I don’t know, man. But I’m glad I did.”

Sam huffed out a breath, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Steve looked away again, dragging his towel through his hair and grabbing a water bottle.

He snuck another glance at his phone across the room and realized just how utterly fucked he was. There was still no flashing light, no message from Bucky, and his heart sank. It was probably better all things considered. He knew getting involved with active military was tricky in the best of situations, and if Bucky was to be believed, he was more than just active military. He was special ops. He was dangerous and _in_ danger. And with Steve’s own messy past in the military, and his uncertain future, getting involved with Bucky was just going to explode in their faces. He sighed and ran his hands over his face roughly.

“Hey, guys, I have to run home and take Patriot out. He was still asleep when I ran in this morning, so I couldn’t run him.”

“Damn, that dog sleeps almost as much as Sam,” Riley laughed.

Sam scowled up at him and then sat up to look at Steve with a calculating eye. Steve knew Sam was seeing right through his lie. He just hoped Sam wasn’t going to out him right here and now.

“You make sure he wears you the hell out,” Sam said slowly, instead of anything else. Steve was fairly certain he wasn’t talking about the dog.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky was going to town on a punching bag that didn’t deserve all the abuse it received at Fogwell’s. The strong body on the other side of the bag, mostly holding it still, belonged to Frank Castle, who was hardly as talkative as Bucky wanted at the moment. Barton was still sparring in another room with Romanov, so Bucky was just scowling and hitting the bag as hard as he could.

“It was just a one night stand,” he said, hitting the side of the bag so hard that Castle actually stumbled a step around the bag. He readjusted himself and grunted his agreement.

“I shouldn’t expect anything more than that.”

“Yeah,” Castle agreed. He let Bucky hit the bag a few more times before saying, “But you do.”

“I do!” Bucky confirmed in a whine. He kicked the bag hard and then stood up, impatiently tugging at the wraps around his wrist. “Castle, you don’t get it. This guy was…fuck, he was so great. He was just, like, everything I’ve ever wanted. I could tell as soon as we started dancing together.”

Castle grunted again, but that might’ve been more because Bucky had unexpectedly punched the lower half of the bag again, sending the hard seam into Castle’s stomach. Castle stood up, subtly stretching out his middle section and masking it as scratching his fingers over his head.

“Look, man, I don’t care about your fling. He didn’t leave a number, so go find him again, or don’t. Are you warmed up yet? Because I want to go spar and I don’t want it to be with Barton.”

“Or Romanov.”

Castle and Bucky smirked at each other for a moment. “Only for the same reason you don’t.”

“Hey, my ego knows what it can take. Getting pinned in under a minute isn’t one of those things.”

“Sounds like you were ready to get pinned last night. In under a minute.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m warm if you’re warm.”

“I’m warm,” Castle agreed. He shook out his arms and rolled his shoulders back. Bucky rolled his eyes and headed for the training mats in the center of the room. Bucky and Castle hadn’t known each other very long, but they found they got along quickly, with the same biting attitude and need for success.

Castle was Marines, but he and Bucky had met at Fogwell’s while they were both on leave earlier in the year. They’d been put on the same team when they both got recruited to special ops and the people in charge decided not to separate them. They worked too well together and they were more than deadly next to each other.

There was no real reason to waste two of the best snipers in the Western hemisphere on the same team, but then the head honchos added Clint Barton to their newest team, so who was Bucky to assume what the idiots wanted? All three of them were undoubtedly skilled in hand to hand combat but superior officers tended to keep Bucky on guns and Clint up high, and let Castle do whatever he wanted.

Castle had once cleared a warehouse full of hostiles with only his fists. He walked away with two bullet grazes and a black eye. The dude was a machine. Bucky would let him do all the dirty work whenever he wanted.

And Castle could take a hit. Sometime during Bucky’s first tour, he’d ended up under the knife with an injury to his shoulder. Obviously it wasn’t career ending, but it had been...career altering. Bucky had played baseball all his life and he knew that pitchers sometimes had a surgery done after high school that would make their arm faster and stronger, so at first he thought that that was all this was. It was just his body reacting to not having a bullet hole in his shoulder anymore. But the changes were across his body. In general, he was faster and stronger. He slept less and ate more.

And Bucky hit. Hard.

They sparred for upwards of half an hour, both drenched and panting by the time they were interrupted by a lilting, “Hey, fellas.” Natasha was leaning over the edge of the second story wrap-around track. There was sheen of sweat on her skin, but she was mostly loose limbs and easy smirks. Bucky gave a half hearted salute and Castle took the opportunity to tackle him down to the mat, pinning both of Bucky’s hands above his head and sitting squarely above his hips.

Bucky gasped under him and kicked futilely at Castle’s waist. “Jesus Christ, Castle, get off of me. I can’t fucking breathe. You’re as heavy as a fuckin’ truck.” He dropped his head back against the floor because he knew Castle wouldn’t concede until Bucky gave up entirely.

“Hot shit, guys,” Barton wolf whistled, probably from right next to Natasha. Inevitably, he’d dropped down from the rafter. Probably, he was in the rafters to hide form Natasha for whatever trick he’d pulled in training.

Castle glared up at Barton as he stood and then raised one threatening finger towards him--a silent warning, _You better watch yourself_ \--before Barton shut up. Bucky slid out from under Castle and got his feet as well, shoving a hand through his hair and tugging out the loose rubber band. His hair wasn’t really long enough to pull it back yet, but it _could_ be and so Bucky did. He’d been growing it out between deployments since he joined up, just as a tiny fuck-you that got remedied every time he went back.

His hair fell along his jaw and he shook it out of his face. “Did you want something, Romanoff?” he called.

“Will you take Zima to the dog park? You’re getting ready for cardio, right?”

“Are you going to make me go all the way back into the city?”

“She likes Central Park, sue me.”

“She’s your dog, you take her.”

“I’m still working here. Barton and I are gonna hit the weights.”

“Leg day!” Barton interjected. He’d climbed over the railing and hooked his legs through them so he could hang upside down. He didn’t need leg day.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m just the only person she’ll behave for. Y’know, if _you_ took her out more, she’d probably love you too,” Bucky shot back.

“If you take her out, I’ll make sure you get a second date with your club-boy-toy.”

Castle barked out a laugh and finally let his disinterest guide him somewhere else. Probably back to the punching bags. Natasha threw down the small drawstring bag that had Zima’s leash, doggie bags, and probably a bowl and water bottle, if Natasha’s habits repeated themselves often enough.

Bucky caught it and turned to stride out the door in the same movement. He held his middle finger up over his shoulder. As if she understood what was happening, Zima came zooming down the stairs from the upper track and bounded over to Bucky in a way that wouldn’t suggest she’d just been asleep for the hours everyone had been at the gym. The broad husky knocked into the back of Bucky’s knees and then wove in between his legs until she was in front of him and could jump up to set her paws on his chest.

“Good morning to you too, you terror,” Bucky laughed and then coughed when Zima took the opportunity to stick her tongue in his mouth. “You are the worst. Bad dog!” he said, with no venom in his voice. Zima didn’t take it as such and trotted next to him until they were outside and she was clipped to her leash again. Bucky looked around, hoping for the most chance encounter, but the streets held no buff blonds with a dangerous smile. He sighed and tugged on the leash until Zima started to run next to him.

 

*  * *

 

It was already hot in the day and Steve had sweat running down the length of his back. Patriot had jumped in no less than three fountains since they’d been running around and Steve was wondering if it was too early to go home and swim in his apartment complex’s pool. Technically, Patriot wasn’t allowed in the water, but what the landlords didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Another dog barked and got Patriot’s attention and then a giant orange ball kept it. It came from over a hill, so it was bouncing, quickly, towards them. Patriot ran up to greet the ball at the same time a dog, that was unbelievably bigger than Patriot, bounded over that hill to retrieve it.

Patriot was still growing, just barely out of his puppy years, but this dog was massive anyway. The long hair probably didn’t help. It didn’t run, as much as bound and it reached the ball well before Patriot did. It turned its body to shield its prize and Patriot tumbled over the other dog, sending them both sprawling. The other dog was up in a fluid jump, a hard fighting stance twisting its body.

“Hey, hey, hey. Easy there, pretty thing. He’s just an idiot. Patriot, get over here,” Steve ordered, snapping several times. Patriot barely took a few steps back towards Steve and obviously didn’t see what the problem was. He was lowered down in a play position, tail wagging furiously.

Then there was a litany of hard Russian and clapping. Steve looked up at the guy cresting the hill and his heart stuttered in his chest.

“Zima. Zima, now!” Bucky barked. That really was Bucky. Speaking an entirely different language and looking pissed as all hell, winded and flushed.

The dog turned to glance at Bucky before refixing its glare on Patriot. Bucky barked out something else in Russian and Zima slowly turned and slunk back to him. She was still tense as she stood behind him.

“Patriot, get here now,” Steve added. He saw Bucky look up from clipping a leash on Zima and a wide grin spread over his face.

“What the hell are the odds of that? Man, this really isn’t your morning, is it?”

Steve blinked and a few different responses ran through his mind before he settled on, “Excuse me?”

Bucky scoffed. “Come on, man. You left me alone in bed and now you’re running into me in a whole different borough.”

“Are we counting Central Park as a borough now?” Steve had to ask, amused. “I didn’t leave you. I gave you my number. _You’re_ the one who didn’t text.”

“You did not leave your  number. I think I would’ve seen it. I _looked_.”

“I put it on your head!”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to blink dumbly at him. “What the fuck, man? My head? Why do you think that was a good idea?”

“Your face is the first thing people look at in the morning! I thought you’d definitely see it.”

“Why would a note stay stuck to my head? Did you see what I looked like this morning? Do I look like I sleep in one position?”

That gave Steve pause and he stood up a little straighter, took a small step back. “I just assumed...since you’re a soldier…”

“Well you know what they say about assuming,” Bucky drawled drily.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I can make an ass of myself pretty well on my own.”

“That I can believe.”

Steve’s cheeks colored prettily, which was a task since he was already flushed from the sun. “I think you’re being really unfair to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. He tapped through screens quickly and held it out to Steve. Steve took it and looked at the screen and let some of the tension release out of his shoulders. He input his number and then texted something from Bucky’s phone to his.

“There, man. All’s settled,” he said with a grin. Bucky gave a small grin as well and took his phone back. “What’s this beauty’s name?” Steve asked, squatting down next to the dog and reaching to pet her head.

“Ah, she’s probably not gonna--”

Zima snarled at Steve and ducked behind Bucky’s legs, standing between his feet and glaring.

Bucky sighed and pushed her out from under him. “She’s not that friendly. She doesn’t even really like the lady that owns her.”

Steve looked a little hurt, but stood up and wiped his hand on his jeans. Beside him, Patriot was trying to figure out the sneakiest way closer to Zima.

“Her name is Zima though.”

“Were you speaking Russian to her earlier?” Steve asked.

Bucky blushed slightly. “Yeah, she’s adopted from Russia, by a Russian woman, so we talk to her in Russian. It’s what she understands.” He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Is it something you learned for her?” Steve asked.

“Nah, I took Russian while I was in school. Figured it’d be important in the military. Should’ve taken Arabic for how often they stick stick me in the desert.”

Steve grunted in agreement and Patriot finally settled down and laid over Steve’s feet.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked, squatting in front of Patriot and reaching out to pet behind his ears. Which only served to make Patriot excited again. He jumped up and toppled Bucky to the ground before going to town, licking his face.

“Patriot, no!” Steve groaned, pulling the lab back and making him sit by Steve’s legs. Still, Steve could feel the dog vibrating with energy, muscles coiled and ready to pounce on the new man again.

Bucky smirked at them from where he sat on the ground. Zima watched them distastefully and eventually moved to sit herself between Bucky’s legs. Bucky looked even better in old athletic shorts, legs sprawled out in front of him. Steve’s mind wandered to how it’d feel to be between Bucky’s legs again, if his shins had rubbed against Steve’s hips or if he’d held Steve close with only bent knees. He wondered if Bucky would change night to night.

Zima growled, as if she could read his mind. Steve blinked a little too hard and looked at Bucky’s face. It was no less distracting, but he wasn’t thinking about laying him out in the middle of Central Park.

“Hey, there’s an ice cream truck somewhere around here that has doggie-friendly popsicles. You wanna go get some and cool off?” Steve asked, and if there was a flush on his cheeks, it definitely wasn’t from the sun anymore.

Bucky’s smirk hadn’t faltered and he shrugged casually. “If you want,” he agreed, standing in a fluid motion. Steve hungrily drank in the length of his legs and the stretch of his body. “Let’s go,” Bucky added to get Steve moving again. Bucky started off at a jog, Zima immediately joining his side, and Steve allowed himself a minute to stare at his ass before running after him.

 

*  * *

 

The popsicles were actually kind of good and, ever the gentleman, Steve had paid for Bucky’s. Bucky didn’t have his wallet on him anyway, but it wouldn’t have mattered because Steve paid before Bucky could even pat himself down for cash. Maybe Bucky could get used to this. Stealing a sidelong glance at Steve making dumb faces at his dumber dog made Bucky think he could probably get used to a lot of things when Steve was involved.

Zima and Patriot had slowly warmed up to each other and were licking at what was left of both doggie-safe popsicles, melted into one bowl. Their reluctant friendship came about after both ran after the same squirrel three times in a row. Luckily they were both leashed and Bucky and Steve had grabbed both of them quickly, but it was still ridiculous.

Bucky looked away from the dogs and glanced around them, at the empty popsicle truck and the vacant area around them. Eventually, his gaze returned to Steve and he slowly shifted to straddle Steve’s thighs on the bench they’d claimed. “You really should let me pay you back,” he purred, arms wrapping around Steve’s neck.

Steve hummed, eyes casting a quick glance around. “How do you plan on doing that? You don’t have anything on you.” His heavy arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist and sat against his hips.

It kind of felt a little bit perfect to Bucky. “You think a man doesn’t have other ways of repaying you?” he purred, brushing his fingers over the back of Steve’s neck slowly. His calluses caught on the feather fine hair that was growing out of his fade. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Rogers,” he hummed, just to see a blush explode over Steve’s cheeks and crawl down his neck.

For a second, Bucky thought Steve was going to argue, point out that they were in public. Instead, Steve brought one of his hands up to the back of Bucky’s head and tugged him even closer until Bucky could brush his lips against Steve’s cheek, take a breath and tickle Steve’s skin until goosebumps erupted over it. He roved his mouth down to Steve’s jaw and worked a small mark against his skin. He shivered when he felt Steve’s hand slide under his loose tank top and let out a small groan as Steve scratched his nails over his stomach.

“God, we shouldn’t be doing this so fast,” Bucky whined softly eventually, lips brushing over Steve’s gently.

“We’ve already had sex,” Steve pointed out, smirking before he leaned up to kiss Bucky.

Bucky let out a pleased sound into Steve’s mouth, curling his fingers in Steve’s hair. It was logic he couldn’t argue with. But there was something more. Not just the physicality of it all. The easy way they were together, the happy ache in Bucky’s chest when Steve smiled that broad smile that lit his eyes up in a way which just wasn’t fair, the way Bucky already wanted to be living together. He hadn’t even known Steve existed for twenty four hours yet. Something just felt like they’d known each other for centuries.

Steve was just starting to go to town on Bucky’s neck when suddenly a lilting, “Hey, fellas,” broke through their wanton haze. They sprang apart and Steve blushed prettily again. Bucky sat down heavily on the bench when he realized there was no threat.

“Nat, what do you want?” he asked as he ran a hand over his flushed face.

“Just my dog. I suppose I got more than I bargained for, huh?” She smirked and finished untying Zima’s leash from around the table leg.

“Steve, this is Nat. We live together. I hate it,” Bucky introduced, waving his hand between the two. “She’s military too.”

Natasha took a step forward and held her hand out. “Bucky complained about you all morning. I wasn’t even training with him and I could  hear him.”

“Nat!”

Steve laughed shyly, casting a quick glance at Bucky as his cheeks got even redder. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Jamie, you got yourself a gentleman. That’s sweet. Out of your league and definitely not your usual type, but sweet.” She grinned and Bucky swatted at her.

“Jamie?” Steve asked, leaning against the side of the table. He gave Bucky a curious once over that had every pit of Bucky’s body tingling.

“Oh, you don’t know his real name? It’s James Buchanan Barnes. He got Bucky from Buchanan. But I infinitely prefer James.”

“It’s how our CO called me when we were first enlisted. It’s how she keeps referring to me.” Bucky rolled his eyes and patted the bench next to him just to watch Natasha get pulled by Zima as the dog jumped up next to him. Zima immediately made herself comfortable against his side and closed her eyes.

“Don’t let my dog sleep on you. She’ll be awake all night,” Natasha complained. Still, she sat down on the dog’s other side.

“How did you know where Bucky was?” Steve asked.

“I have my ways,” Natasha said glibly.

“She has a chip in Zima. She can track her in case she ever goes missing,” Bucky corrected. He turned to face Natasha suddenly. “Weren’t you going somewhere?” he asked tensely.

Natasha shrugged neatly. “Come on, Zima. You don’t want to see the nasty things boys get up to.”

Bucky kicked dirt at her and Natasha didn’t react even a little bit. She lead Zima away and Patriot whined at the end of the table. After he was certain Natasha was really gone, Bucky turned back to Steve, mouth almost on his jaw, when Patriot jumped up where Zima had been and made himself comfortable across Bucky’s lap.

Bucky sat back and put a dejected hand on the lab’s head. Steve laughed and shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t realize the world was going to conspire to keep our make out session brief.”

“You live close by?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked a little conflicted for a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah. I’ve got a place in Manhattan.”

“Manhattan?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. “Thought you were Brooklyn through and through?”

“Uh, well, it’s kind of complicated. I have a friend who lives in Midtown and he gave me a room in his building. For the time being it’ll be fine to crash there.”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully and leaned over to press a kiss to Steve’s jaw, and then down his neck slowly. “Then let’s not waste time.”

Steve let out a small, guttural sound and nodded quickly. “Yeah. I have my bike. It’ll only take a few minutes.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand and hauled him upright before tugging him towards the awning he parked under. Patriot trotted along behind them.

“You rode a bike with a dog?” Bucky asked dubiously. Like, he’d seen people walking their dogs while skateboarding, and maybe even on a bike. But the idea of running Zima next to a bike for the mile from Midtown to the park was beyond his imagination.

Steve laughed, pausing his attack on Bucky’s jaw as they walked. “No. I ride a motorcycle. There’s a sidecar for Patriot. Normally I’d just walk him over, but I was out with some friends this morning and didn’t want to keep on running.”

Bucky nodded as if the idea of Steve straddling a bike wasn’t doing obscene things to his mind. Then the rest of Steve’s words caught up to him and Bucky had to laugh, clinging onto Steve’s arm. “Did you say you put the dog in a sidecar?” he asked between snickers.

“Shut up! He can’t run along a motorcycle! And I need to get him places.” Steve blushed and it was the prettiest thing Bucky had ever seen. Again and again. Surely he’d have to remember how nice it was sometime.

Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s waist and nudged himself against Steve’s ribs, which was pretty ballsy. He’d never really had a serious relationship, didn’t really walk down the streets tangled up in some guy’s arms. But, God, he couldn’t get himself to stop now. Even sweaty and gross, Steve smelled amazing and Bucky wanted to disappear into his chest.

Steve had parked at the south end of the park and Patriot’s eager gait kept them moving quickly despite Bucky’s best attempts to keep pulling Steve behind a tree. Patriot was the first on the bike, sitting in his doggy seat eagerly. Steve strapped him in with more seatbelts than Bucky had ever seen. Then Steve threw his leg over the seat of the bike and all the blood in Bucky’s body flooded into his dick. Steve’s thighs were on full display as his running shorts rode up on them and then pulled tight over them. It was obscene in all the best ways.

 

(Art by [WalkingStardust](http://walkingstardust.tumblr.com/))

 

Bucky nearly fell over himself to climb onto the back of the bike. He couldn’t help but run his hands over Steve’s thighs, scratching his nails over bare skin and hitching his shorts up higher. His mouth found Steve’s neck and he felt Steve’s groan against his lips.

“God, Bucky, you can’t do that while I’m driving,” he warned. “I’m gonna wrap us around a tree.”

“There’s no tree for you to wrap us around,” Bucky assured. He bit the juncture of Steve’s shoulder and neck until he felt Steve’s skin heat under his mouth. He couldn’t tell if it was from a blush or from friction and he didn’t really care.

Steve got them home in probably a record time and the delicate movement of his muscles in his forearms did nothing for the growing erection in Bucky’s shorts that was certainly digging into Steve’s lower back.

As they weaved in and out of traffic, Patriot howled and wagged his tail so hard, Bucky could hear the thumping over the roar of traffic. It was enough to distract him until they got to a parking garage somewhere near Stark Tower. Fucking Midtown.

Patriot squirmed in his seat until Steve got him unbuckled and then he took off to the elevator down the aisle they were parked in. Steve didn’t tear after him. Instead, he grabbed Bucky’s hip, pulling him closer. Bucky happily stumbled into Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.

“I could have you right here,” Steve said lowly, just between the both of them.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t argue with you,” Bucky purred

“Scoundrel,” Steve laughed, leaning down to kiss Bucky again. “Just give me a little lovin’ for a minute.”

Bucky sighed, as if he was being put upon, but gladly let Steve’s hands wander to his thighs and over his ass, even under the waistband of his pants. Slowly, they moved through the parking lot, connected at the lips, until they reached an elevator and Steve put in some fancy credentials to get upstairs.

So far, everything about the building from the flashes of floors he could see through the glass walls to the security of it all, to the layout was exactly like Bucky expected of a Midtown haunt. But when the doors opened on Steve’s floor, some of the pretentiousness went away. All of Steve’s furniture was old and modest. Plants draped themselves over the windows and thumb tacks and any available surface. Paperbacks were thrown over most end tables and any cranny that was left unfilled. A tattered flag hung on the wall and Bucky would recognize a flag that had gone through battle just about anywhere.

“Don’t worry, the bedroom’s cleaner,” Steve said, hesitating when Bucky didn’t immediately follow him. Bucky, instead, stepped forward to pick up the nearest book. It was obviously a raunchy smut romance, a shirtless man on the cover, head cut off just above the cocky smirk of his lips. Dog tags hung in the middle of his perfect chest. It was called _SEALed with a Kis_ s. Bucky held it up with a raised eyebrow.

Steve groaned and spun on his toe slightly. “That’s not mine. My friend, Sam, is super into military romances. And it was gay so…” He gestured. “He told me to read it. That’s why it’s here.”

“Sure, Rogers,” Bucky laughed. He set it down and grabbed another. It wasn’t a title or an author he recognized and neither were the next few he grabbed. To be fair, he didn’t read much more than sci-fi and horror. He’d used to like fantasy a lot, but Steve seemed more in the vein of realism and...super old shit.

He sat down on the couch with a book called _No Ordinary Girl_  and opened it to the first page. Steve coughed next to him but eventually sat beside him and grabbed _SEALed with a Kiss_. It was nice enough that Bucky didn’t even mind that he’d just cockblocked himself. He leaned into Steve’s side and Steve rested his cheek on Bucky’s hair, occasionally pressing absent half kisses to Bucky’s head.

Somewhere in between kisses, Bucky fell asleep.

 

*  * *

 

Steve woke up to frantic knocking. At first, he was trying to figure out how the reinforced doors of the suite was making such a delicate, light sound. Then he realized it wasn’t coming from the door. It was coming from the Stark-Pad buried under the cushions of his couch. He glanced at Bucky to make sure he was still out before shifting to dig out the pad. He silenced the request to open the door and looked to Bucky again.

He was slack jawed and his hair was in his face. Somehow, he’d managed to keep his finger in between the pages of his book. Steve smiled broadly and brushed his hair away before standing slowly and lowering Bucky to the pillow at the arm of the couch. He paused to make sure Bucky was still asleep and not liable to wake up alone. He didn’t even shift around on the couch with thew new position. Steve’s heart ached.

He made his way to the door and leaned it on his shoulder to hide as much of his suite as possible from the nosy fucker on the other side.

“JARVIS said you came in with someone. That you requested he not speak even a little bit,” Tony said, tip toeing up to see inside the suite over Steve’s shoulder. “Who is it? What’s she look like? You look particularly kempt for someone who’s had almost three hours with a stranger alone in this place.”

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just met someone. We came back. We were reading and fell asleep.”

Tony groaned and Steve would’ve said it was exaggerated but he knew Tony and it probably was not. “You can’t be serious. You brought her home to read to her?”

“Tony,” Steve grit out. He pushed Tony into the hall and shut the door. “Can you just leave us alone? We’re having a nice day.”

“Do you have a picture of her? I bet you’re into other blondes. Got thing for big chests, Rogers? Or does yours do it for the relationship?”

“Tony, it’s a man in there!” Steve finally shouted before glancing at the door, straining to hear if Bucky had heard. He shouldn’t be able to but who knew.

Tony gaped at him. “What?”

“I went to a club last night and I met someone. We went to his last night and hung out today.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. You’re into men? Captain America is into men? Was that even invented when you were growing up?”

“You should ask your dad,” Steve scoffed before blushing. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Ew, God, Rogers.” Tony pretended to gag, or maybe he actually did. It was hard to know with him. “I want to know everything about him. JARVIS, tell me everything about this man.”

“That’s a breach of the privacy constraints Captain Rogers has in place,” JARVIS answered easily.

“That’s bullshit. I made you, Jar.”

“I know. I’m sorry, sir. But you did not give yourself override capabilities on privacy settings.”

“Why didn’t I do that, Jar?”

“I assume because you know you have no self control, sir.”

Steve hid a small smile behind a cough before he brought himself back together. “Tony, I’m serious. Leave him alone. It’s new. He doesn’t deserve to deal with you.”

Tony shrugged. “I’ll get him one way or another. We can’t have just anyone stealing your heart. There’s gotta be a thorough vetting process. That’s just how it works now, Capsicle.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Go away. I’m trying to be normal.”

Tony gave a dainty, sarcastic wave before turning on his heel and walking back down the hallway. He only made it a few strides before he was sprinting back and trying to see inside of Steve’s room, springing up on his tiptoes to see over Steve’s shoulder into the cracked door.. Steve shoved him away, sparing a moment to scowl at Tony viciously before he was ducking into his suite and locking the door behind him.

He only got to lean on the door for a second before Patriot was suddenly woofing and sprinting at Bucky’s sleeping form. Before Steve could get himself between them, Patriot launched himself at Bucky and smothered him in seventy pounds of fur and muscle.

Bucky squawked and yelped and flung his arms around before he settled down and his hands found a hold in Patriot’s fur. It was a far quicker and calmer reaction than Steve would’ve ever had. Hell, Bucky seemed to relax right back into the couch as Patriot planted kisses all over Bucky’s face.

“Stop that. Stop. You smell so bad,” Bucky eventually laughed when it got to be too much. He brought his arms over his face and Steve thought his heart was going to burst into two right then and there.

Somehow, Bucky wrestled Patriot to his side so that he could sit up, rubbing his hands over his face and then scowling at his hands.

“Sorry we both fell asleep and I dragged you up here for no reason. We coulda gone home,” Steve said sheepishly. He sat down next to Bucky and reached for one of his hands. “And sorry for not grabbing my dog before he could crush you.”

“He’s fine,” Bucky assured, setting his hand down on the dog’s head heavily before rubbing at his fur. “Aren’t you a good, baby, huh?” he cooed and then laughed when Patriot licked him again.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Steve asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand.

“Oh, maybe we could head off to your bed now,” Bucky suggest, running a hand down Steve’s chest. That only lasted until Patriot whined next to them and broke the moment. “Okay, fine, I’ll keep an eye on you,” he laughed, turning his attention back to the dog.

“But we can keep that bedroom promise for later,” Steve purred, leaning over to kiss down Bucky’s jaw.

“Over and over again,” Bucky answered with a grin.

 

*  * *

 

The weeks passed like that. Lazy afternoons and morning runs and accidentally running into each other and then pulling the other into the closest apartment. Steve’s real apartment and not whatever suite his friend let him live in was much more modest. A single bed room. A narrow hall. A small bathroom. A kitchen that was basically also the living room. It was still as cluttered as the suite, but in a more homey way. It felt less like Steve was trying to fill a space and more like this really was just home.

Steve wanted a bigger place. Just a little bit more room for Patriot to have a daft half hour every night. He had backpay stored up from some thing or another, he said, and wanted to start using it towards a higher rent.

It took two weeks before Bucky offered to split rent on a nice place with him, after his next deployment.

Steve and Bucky both had nightmares. It wasn’t unusual for Steve to wake up alone, only to find Bucky curled up on the couch with Patriot protectively laying over him. Steve would walk into the living room and find Bucky with a pillow over his head and Patriot would look up, alert and ready until he saw it was only Steve. He’d thump his tail in greeting before laying back on Bucky’s side when he deemed Steve too boring to be a threat. Steve always reminded Patriot that he was the one who fed him and took him out, not Bucky. Patriot didn’t seem to see the betrayal.

It was equally common for Bucky to wake up to Steve giving himself a cold bath from the sink, hair sopping and hands shivering. Neither of them liked the cold, but Steve always looks like he was trying to drown himself in three inches of water.

They didn’t talk about their nightmares. Didn’t want to. They were both too empathetic towards each other to risk giving their pain away. But waking up to Steve’s rising and falling chest, or being able to turn over and hold Bucky was better therapy than either had received for any of that shit.

More often than not, they slept together. Steve’s suite was closer to the USM office most of Bucky’s team operated out of, and Bucky’s apartment was near Steve’s favorite shops and restaurants. It just made sense to call and ask for a bed to collapse into. Bucky didn’t realize how much he missed waking up with someone next to him. He was a tactile shit and could worm his way between any blanket and Steve’s chest. Most of the time when Steve got up, Bucky whined with the heat loss until he crawled back into bed.

So it was odd when Bucky woke up to the sound of another voice in the apartment. and he couldn’t immediately find Steve’s in the mix. Bucky neatly, quietly flipped out of bed and grabbed the knife he kept on the edge of the bedframe. He flipped it between his fingers as he walked through Steve’s apartment hall. It was balancing weird in his hand and he realized he hadn’t had to grab it recently. The apartment was so damn secure between the both of them that he hadn’t worried about a break in in ages.

He came into the living room and saw someone sitting on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, the art book Steve liked so much kicked to one side. The knife weighed heavy in Bucky’s hand but the scene was so familiar and comfortable that he didn’t throw it.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked instead, fingers twitching around the handle of the knife.

The man on the couch jumped up and turned around, one hand held up in surrender, the other holding a smoothie. Bucky frowned at the same time the man did.

“Barnes? What the hell are you doing here?” Wilson asked.

Steve came down the spare room hallway right then and grinned at Bucky and then Sam. “You know each other?” he asked.

Sam and Bucky both scoffed. “Know he’s an asshole,” Sam said.

“Know he’s a fuck,” Bucky added.

Steve rolled his eyes and handed a pillow to Sam. “How do you know that?”

“We’ve been training together for four months. How do you know him?” Bucky asked.

“We met at the VA. Sam’s a volunteer counselor,” Steve explained.

“You never mentioned that,” Bucky accused, looking at Sam.

“What’s it matter, man? Give it a few weeks and I won’t be anymore ‘cause they’ll move us somewhere secure.”

Bucky shrugged. “Just feels like a big part of your life. What if we’re in the middle of the field and need emotional assistance? We’d be sending someone off to get help while you’re sitting right there.”

“You do need emotional assistance,” Sam snorted.

“Enough,” Steve said sharply, but his body was still loose and there was a faint smile on his lips. “Sam’s gonna stay with us for a night or two while Riley--”

“Goes through his exams and evals. Makes sense,” Bucky agreed with a nod. “Are you right after him?”

“Yeah they’re not even gonna let us see each other. I’m getting on a plane here while he’s getting on one in DC.”

“That sucks. They just don’t want to results tainted. Guess I can’t blame them.” He shrugged. “You nervous about it?”

“Hell no. Castle already did his and passed. If a psych exam lets him through, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky snorted and nodded. “Sure you will, Wilson.”

“Who’s Castle?” Steve asked, moving into the kitchen to tinker with whatever he’d been making before Bucky woke up.

“Barnes’ boyfriend. Aside from you, I guess.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you shitfuck. He’s married and expecting another baby.”

Sam shrugged “Doesn’t mean he’s not your boyfriend.”

“Should I be worried, Buck?” Steve asked, more than amused. He walked by Bucky and kissed his cheek. “Someone I’ve got to fight for your hand?”

Sam snorted and threw himself over the couch again. “Pal, you couldn’t beat Castle if you wanted to.”

“He’s a guy I met after my first deployment. We’re close. We have a lot in common. He’s on the team too.”

“Should you be telling him so much about this team?” Sam asked over his shoulder.

“Like your big mouth hasn’t already given the important shit away.”

“What if this place is bugged?” Sam asked, ignoring Bucky completely.

“My apartment isn’t bugged. I’m not that important,” Steve said diplomatically. He sat next to Sam, practically over his legs, his own feet kicked up onto the coffee table in front of them.

“I’m glad you two know each other.” They were kind of the most important people in Steve’s life. Throw in Peggy and you had everyone Steve cared about who was still breathing. Then the thought of Sam and Bucky meeting Peggy made Steve fear for his dignity.

“We should have a double date before we ship out. Me and Riley, you and Day-Of-The-Living-Dead over here.”

Bucky shoved Sam and rolled his eyes. “I really do hate you. It’s amazing.”

“I’m amazing,” Sam chirped as Bucky settled on Steve’s other side.

“A double date would be great, Sam,” Steve agreed with a grin at the other man. “Milton’s?”

“Milton’s,” Sam confirmed with a nod.

“What’s Milton’s?” Bucky asked. Sam was glad Patriot decided to sit on Bucky’s feet eventually and kept the man from continuing to squirm on the couch.

“It’s the best Italian place in New York,” Sam said.

Steve, who was always ready for a fight, hummed his assent. “It’s so good, Buck. I can't believe I haven’t dragged you out to it yet.”

Bucky didn’t like expensive Italian places. Then again, if it was Sam and Riley and Steve going, it couldn’t be that terrible. Or that expensive. Bucky had seen how Riley lived. It was nothing to brag about.

“Yeah, alright, Milton’s it is then,” Bucky said with a shrug.

Patriot lifted his head but Steve only laughed. “No Milton’s for you, man,” he said, reaching out to scratch behind Patriot’s ears. Sam laughed and it only served to make Bucky laugh too, all of them reaching down to give Patriot scratches and pats.

~

Milton’s was the most mom-and-pop shop that Bucky had ever been in. And that was saying something because Bucky had worked at a bodega the whole time he was in high school. And plenty of small restaurants.

“Wait, wait, you’re tellin’ me Sam usta have longer hair?” Bucky asked Riley, halfway leaning over the table.

“I’m telling you he had a full on afro in high school,” Riley corrected with a laugh while Sam glared at him.

“Dude, what?” Bucky laughed.

“You could always see his hair comin’ down the hallway before you actually saw him. He was so handsome,” he assured, leaning into Sam’s side and kissing his cheek gently.

“You’re gonna think so handsome when I kick your ass tonight,” Sam warned in a growl.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“When did he cut it?” Bucky asked.

“He is sitting right here,” Sam pointed out.

“Basics. God knows he waited until they did it to him. The last good picture we got together before shipping out, was this great image of the two of us standing in front of the recruitment poster, him with all his hair and me with this long, grown out mop.”

“Riley had a blowout junior and senior year,” Sam added. “Not like, you know, a nice fade and sharp edges. Like a woman’s blowout.”

“You two musta looked like quite the 80s buddy cop movie,” Bucky snorted.

“Oh like you’ve got any room to talk,” Sam scoffed.

“Please, look at his hair, he’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Riley defended.

“Hey now, handsy,” Steve warned, though he was grinning, all lopsided and carefree.

The plates in front of them were wiped clean, and so were the two dessert bowls, but that hadn’t kept them from chatting up a storm all night. Bucky hadn’t known Riley all that well. Just that he was Sam’s man and Sam was crazy about him. They’d had a medical examination appointment together once, but it was at four in the morning and they hadn’t really talked, too busy cradling coffee and staring at nothing.

“My MEPS officer always handed me a rubber band when I came in for meetings. I was on a waiting list for almost six months. I missed the ship-out date by a week. I was in and out, but he knew I liked my hair, so he didn’t try to get me to cut it before I had to.”

Steve reached out to run his hand through Bucky’s hair and contemplated him for a while. “I think you’d be awfully handsome with short hair, Barnes,” he decided with a grin.

“You think I’d be handsome no matter what.”

As they leaned in to kiss each other, young and stupid and in love, their waiter came over again. “Sorry to interrupt gentlemen. No one’s waiting for your table, but we do have a policy that you only stay as long as you’re ordering.”

“Give us a bottle of white wine,” Riley said quickly. “And could we get new glasses with it?”

The waiter nodded and began to gather the dishes in front of them. “What kind of white would you like?”

“Not these two,” Sam laughed, kicking Bucky under the table.

“Let’s get a Pinot Grigio, and you know what, throw in a Chardonnay as well, if you don’t mind,” Bucky interjected smoothly. “ _Grazi_.” He grinned at the waiter and then yelped when Steve’s mouth was suddenly on his neck as soon as the waiter was gone.

“I think someone’s got a language kink,” Riley laughed, which made Steve blush furiously as he sat back again.

“ _Oh is that so_ ?” Bucky drawled out in Russian. “ _Then he’ll be happy to know I know almost a full other language_.”

Steve made a sound next to Bucky and Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you stick to bondage like the rest of us?” he asked.

“Babe, that was supposed to be between us and the dominant!” Riley answered without missing a beat.

Bucky grinned at them. When the wine came, he had the waiter open the Chardonnay and poured out glasses for the four of them.

“To good company,” he said, raising his glass slightly.

“To good soldiers,” Riley added with a grin.

“And better men,” Steve said.

“To coming back in one piece,” Sam finished.

“Hell yeah,” Riley and Bucky agreed, before they all took a drink.

“Damn, that’s nothing like sneaking into bars and taking fireball shots,” Riley sighed. “No one even made a face.”

“It was white wine, dude,” Bucky laughed.

“Bucky prefers Malibu’s,” Steve said at the same time.

“Who doesn’t?” Sam agreed.

“You all suck,” Riley groaned.

They were in a back room, mostly walled off from the rest of the restaurant with the exception of the sister table next to them. But that was as empty as the rest of the dining area and Bucky suddenly turned a mischievous look on Steve who stiffened under it.

“You know what always followed Fireball when I went out with friends?” He asked, pulling his phone out and pulling up a music app. He started a song that literally still made him want to throw up whenever he heard it because he was instantly half black out drunk with muscle memory when he heard it.

“Here we are, all alone, privacy, we can do anything, your fantasy,” the song sighed in a breathy moan.

“Bucky! There could be other people hearing that!” Steve objected. But Bucky was already shoving Steve’s chair away from the table. “Bucky!” Steve squawked before he was dropping his head back and letting Bucky circle his hips over Steve’s. Bucky swung his leg over Steve’s grinding on him, slow and hard to the rhythm of the song. “Buck,” Steve groaned, hands going to Bucky’s hips. Bucky grinned at him and ran his hands through his hair and then down his chest.

“This song is so gross, Barnes,” Riley scowled, which only prompted Bucky to turn around to dance on Steve’s lap backward, making faces at Sam and Riley.

When the quicker rap part started, despite his protests, Sam straddled Riley’s hips, moving his hips much faster than Bucky could. Bucky maybe got a little distracted by Sam and Steve took the opportunity to pull Bucky down and hold him in place. “No more dirty arcing in public for you,” he muttered, kissing Bucky’s ear.

Sam finished the song off and by the time he was done, Riley was standing and pulling him away. “Uh, thanks for dinner. It was great getting to know you, Bucky. I’ll pay our half on the way out,” he promised before ducking out of the secluded booth with Sam in tow.

Bucky grinned after them before turning to Steve, wriggling his hips to the beat of the new song (“I could fuck you all the time,” the song said, earning an exasperated “Buck!”) as he leaned forward to kiss Steve. It only took a few kisses before Steve was also pulling Bucky from the restaurant, barely sliding his card to pay.

 

*  * *

 

Milton’s became a routine, even if the strip teases didn’t. The four of them just had too much in common not to meet up and complain at least once a week or two. If Sam and Riley couldn't come, Bucky corralled Clint and Natasha. But then Steve had a conference to go too, which left Bucky home alone, doing house work that hadn’t gotten done. So close to a potential ship out, Bucky tried to stay up on chores, in case he had to drop everything and run.

It used to be an exciting concept, but now Steve was going to be gone for a week, at least, and Bucky wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye if he got called out before Steve got back. Which sucked. He’d never had to say goodbye, not really With the girls, he usually told them a week or two early and had the time to himself.

Suddenly, he did not have the evening to himself as the door opened and Patriot went crazy over the intruder. Bucky came out of the kitchen to investigate but relaxed at the sight before him.

“Who the fuck is this?” Castle asked roughly, though he was already on his knees, playing with the lab. He gave him ear and head scratches before making Patriot run in a tight circle to catch his hands again. Castle grinned at the dog and Bucky pretended not to notice.

“He’s Steve’s dog. Steve’s got a business trip and he asked me to watch Patriot for him.”

“Patriot. What a dumb name for a dog,” Castle scoffed.

“Your dog’s name is Max.”

“Max is a good name for a dog. Tell me you think Max could be called anything else.”

“Max is a human name.” Still, Bucky paused and then shrugged. “I can’t see Max being called anything else but that’s because I’ve only known him as Max. He could be a Cerberus.”

“I was on an op called Cerberus. I ain’t namin’ my dog after an op.”

That was fair. Bucky finished drying his dishes before coming into the living room. “Why’re you here, Castle?”

“Maria wanted me out of the house while her and the kids did something. My birthday’s in a few days. They aren’t subtle.”

Bucky chuckled and patted the couch as he sat on it. Patriot took off to jump up next to him. He circled over Bucky’s lap three times before collapsing on top of him. “They love you. You better take that where you find it,” he said as he scratched Patriot’s head. “You’re not the easiest to love.”

“Fuck you, Barnes,” Castle spat. He sat back and worried a bandage on the back of his hand. It had Strawberry Shortcake on it, and Bucky pretended like he didn’t see that either.

“Last year, they dressed up Max, didn’t they?” Bucky asked with a wry grin.

“God, that poor monster. Only Lisa could manage to tame him long enough to paint his nails, but by God she’s the one who’s going to do it.”

Bucky laughed and worked at a knot against Patriot’s shoulder. “I love that kid.”

“Not even half as much as I do,” Castle argued. There was such a fond, adoring look on his face that Bucky had to look away.

“What’re you gonna do when we have to ship out?” Bucky asked., keeping his eyes on a scab on Patriot’s eat. “Did you get into a tussle, big guy?” he asked the dog who only ducked his head in shame.

“The kids know that sometimes I have to leave. They grow up real fast with a military parent, I guess. Too fast.”

“Did you think about quitting? When they were born.”

Castle shrugged. “Maria and I talked about. We talk about it every time I ship off. It’s always gonna be the last time.  Then it never is. After Frankie Jr. was born, I’d said I would quit and stay home, but she did so well with him afterwards that she figured we could make it work. She wanted me to go back in. Said I got too antsy sitting around the house. Then Lisa was born and Maria got real bad. She asked me to quit and I did. I deferred two ship dates to stay home. I was home for almost two years straight. When they said if I deferred one more time, I’d be discharged… I went back. Maria was doing better and Frankie had just started school and Lisa had this great baby sitter. Now we've got the ‘bean’ and, God, it’s hard, Barnes. I ain’t gonna lie. I fall asleep next to Maria’s stomach, holding onto her just in case the baby kicks or something. And I’m supposed to just ship off?”

Bucky nodded and pushed Patriot off of him until the dog collapsed in Frank’s lap instead. Castle’s hands went to the dog’s fur naturally.

“I’ve never really had to worry about it. I guess the girls were upset, but I always shipped off during school  and I was usually back for holidays and then home in the summer. They barely noticed. And it’s not like they’re _my_ kids. Ma was never very sad to see me go. She supported me but didn’t cry or make it a big deal.”

“And now you’ve got that boyfriend of yours,” Frank finished.

Bucky sighed and Patriot kicked out a leg to cover Bucky’s lap. “Thanks, dog,” he muttered, rubbing at Patriot’s paw pads. “He’s not making it difficult, you know? He was a soldier too. He knows how it goes. But...I don’t want to leave him. I don’t even like going off for evals and shit.”

“Look, man, it’s rough. It’s hard. You fight your way through it because that’s what soldiers do. But we ain’t gettin’ any younger, pal. They’re gonna kick us out sometime. If you decide to quit before then, no one’s gonna judge you. You’ve definitely served your time, Barnes. Have you ever served with someone who goes back after such a bad bullet wound?”

Bucky shrugged. “Figured after all hat fancy surgery, I owed it to them to go back out. And it’s what I’m good at. I like protecting people.”

“Become a cop then,” Frank said with a shrug.

“Fuck no. I don't ever want to deal with NYPD in any way, even to work for them.”

“Become one of those bastard vigilantes then.”

Bucky snorted and Frank cracked a grin. “Yeah, I don’t think so, bud. I’m not really the hero type. Besides, nighttime is for clubbing, not for skulking around the city in a mask.”

Frank shrugged again. “Then you fight and you come home and you love while you’re here.”

Bucky made a noise in the back of his throat and then hummed. “Yeah. I think I can do that. I mean.” He cast a sidelong look at Castle. “If you can manage it, how hard can it be?” Castle socked him so hard in the shoulder, Bucky lost his breath. “Thanks for that, man.”

Patriot woofed at them, and gave a small warning growl to Castle but was quickly sated with more scratches under his chin.

 

*  * *

 

The meeting took longer than Steve expected, but everyone at the Tower was far too dramatic for anything to ever work out right. For God's Sake, this was a meeting of Stark’s doing and it wasn’t being held in the actual tower, but a whole different country.

Walking through the streets of New York was a breath of fresh air after all of that. Hell, the universe was giving him a sign that he was home when he passed his favorite flower vendor and they had a bouquet of sunflowers left. Bucky’s favorite, he knew, from the time Bucky made him stop a joy ride trip so he could steal some from a field they were passing. His step was lighter after that, letting himself up to Bucky’s apartment and listened for his dog’s excited circles that meant he’d heard Steve coming up the stairs.

When Steve first came through Bucky’s door, he had to pause and look at the pictures Bucky had up on the wall to make sure they weren’t actually at Steve’s apartment. “Is this...Glenn Miller?” he called, setting his flowers down on the coffee table and shrugging out of his jacket. He pet Patriot, who was eagerly circling his legs and licking at his hands.

“Steve?” Bucky called back. A few seconds later, he was scrambling out of his bedroom, half-dressed. Steve tracked the swoop of his suspenders hanging against his thighs and the obscene way his shirt sat open on his chest. “What’re you doin’ here, baby?” he asked, shoving a hand through his hair. Steve noted it was slicker than usual, and the smell of hair oils followed the simple movement just a second later.

“I was going to surprise you. I’m sorry, am I interrupting your evening plans?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist to pull him close.

“Not yet. You just caught me. I go out to a swing dance night with my girls sometimes.” Steve perked up, though it shot a nostalgic pang through his heart. “Did you bring these?” Bucky asked before Steve could say anything. He reached for the bouquet and immediately pressed his face to the delicate flowers. Steve tightened his arms around Bucky’s waist when he leaned into Steve’s chest.

“I just remember you said you liked them and they were the last bouquet left from a street vendor I passed while I was coming home. Felt too much like fate to pass up,” Steve said with a shrug.

“You’re such a sap,” Bucky sighed, ducking his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey, if you don’t mind, I can swing. I could come with you.” He paused, suddenly shy. “Meet ladies in your life you love so much.”

Bucky hesitated just a second before brightening in that particularly Bucky way. “That would be wonderful. But I’ve gotta warn you, Rogers, us Barneses are particularly good at swinging. If this is just a hobby for you, you probably won’t keep up.”

Steve laughed because Bucky didn’t have half a clue. “No, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue, Barnes,” he sighed happily, kissing Bucky’s hair.

“Let me finish getting ready. Do you mind finding a vase or something to put these in?” Bucky asked, untangling himself and handing over the flowers. “I don’t think I have a vase, but I have large pint glasses and they all work the same.”

He leaned up to kiss Steve’s cheek and then hurried back down the hallway. Steve made his way to Bucky’s kitchen and ran his fingers over the wooden cabinets. He didn’t know Bucky’s apartment well enough to guess where the pint glasses were, but just standing in his kitchen alone was enough to make Steve feel like he was invading.

Then again, Bucky had managed to find a dildo that was hidden in a box in Steve’s bedside drawers, so maybe it wasn’t so bad to dig through his kitchen. As expected, there was nothing exciting to find. Steve pulled out a glass that had some faint design in it, but he couldn’t make it out. He filled it with water and set the flowers in the water. He put all of it on the coffee table in the living room and then glanced down the hall.

“You want company?” he called to Bucky.

“Hell no. You’re a lot better at getting me undressed than you are at gettin’ me dressed,” Bucky called back, laughing. Steve could die listening to that sound.

“Well, just let me know if you get lost somewhere in the mix.”

“You’re a shit!” Bucky sing-songed back.

Steve chuckled and sat himself on the edge of the rocking chair, using the toe of his shoe to slowly rock it back and forth. It only took Bucky a few more minutes to come out. And when he did, Steve’s mouth watered immediately. It was entirely too much to have Bucky standing in front of Steve, looking as out of time as Steve always felt. He looked exactly like the guys who used to chase skirt—and catch it most nights—at the dance halls.

“You’re right. I would’ve been taking those clothes off of you,” Steve conceded, crossing to Bucky to wrap him in his arms. “You look so amazing, doll,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Bucky slowly.

Bucky hummed against his mouth and pulled at Steve’s shirt so it sat just a little looser around his waist. “You’re not quite right, but I think the ladies won’t mind as long as you keep that pretty face on display,” he teased, kissing Steve in turn and wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck.

“Does this club of yours take requests?” Steve asked.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Bucky asked with a grin.

“I like Dean Martin,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Everyone likes Dean Martin,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Come on. If I make my sister wait, she’ll make me take the girls home for the night to make up for lost time.”

“The girls?” Steve asked.

Bucky just smirked at him before ducking out of his arms and heading for the door. He grabbed his keys as he went and took a detour to smell his flowers before waiting for Steve. He followed along warily, keeping an eye on Bucky. Logically, he knew Bucky wasn’t cheating on him, and certainly not with someone his sister would send him home with. Not with multiple ‘girls’.  But he still didn’t like the sound of it.

“It’s right up the street, so I just walk. But you can’t distract me tonight. I’m serious about being late. Becs hates it more than anything,” Bucky explained as he hopped down his steps.

Steve followed and made a non-committal noise. It had to be children, right? Rebecca must’ve had two girl children and part of this night was Bucky babysitting. But what if it _was_ playgirls? What if Bucky was as bad as Stark when he went out? For God’s sake, they’d met at a gay bar that had gogo dancers at it.

Then again, the rational side of his brain reminded, Steve had also been at that bar and he wasn’t one to take playgirls home when his sister suggested it. And it was ridiculous to assume his sister setting up Bucky with lays was something that was A) happening, and B) a punishment for Bucky. The guy was talented in bed. And as far as Steve knew, that kind of talent only came with practice and practice didn’t involve shying away from threesomes.

Probably. What the hell did Steve know about sex? He’d never been in love, never fallen into bed with anyone before the crash and afterwards, he’d been so off that he hadn’t tried to from fear of the serum. Bucky was one of only a few he’d gone home with. And, God, Bucky hit him like a bus. He was completely unprepared for the happy, sexy, sweet, amazing guy trotting through the humidity in front of him, looking like a picture, or a reel out of an old movie.

He looked like home in so many different ways.

So Steve didn’t care if Rebecca used to send Bucky home with two girls after these dance nights. He’d just politely ask her not to do that this evening, or for the foreseeable future because he fully planned on going home with Bucky.

As it turned out, he’d given himself a stress ulcer for nothing because they didn’t even get to the same side of the street as the dance hall before Bucky was being tackled by two balls of tulle and glitter and...dinosaur shirts. He had an arm around each young girl before he fought to sit up, dirt and grass in his hair and clinging to the back of his shirt.

“My loves,” he laughed, kissing each of them on the cheek and pulling on the blonde one’s pig tails. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years! Have you been avoiding me?” he asked, looking serious and grim.

“No!” the girls giggled in tandem.

“You’ve been away!” one said with a pout.

“Every time we go to your apartment, you aren’t there,” the other finished.

“Mom says it’s ‘cause you’re training.”

“Are you leaving again, Uncle Bucky?”

Now Bucky really did look serious and he sighed softly. That was something Steve had never envied. There’d been no one to tell when he got the serum, when he shipped out, when he was put on a team. No one worrying about him coming home, about not being told in the first place.

“I am leaving again. But what do I always tell you.”

“That nothing’s gonna keep you from coming back?” the blonde one said softly.

Bucky kissed her cheek again and nodded. “That’s right. I’ve always gotta come back for my best girls, right?”

“But I don’t want you to go,” the girl cried softly and Bucky’s face fell again.

“I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to leave you either. But it’s for work, just like your mom has to leave each morning, right? And, hey, it’s not for another month or two, alright? There’s a lot more dancing in our future.”

The girls threw their arms around Bucky’s neck and he took the lull in interrogation to stand with them in his arms.

“Uncle Bucky, who’s this?” the dark haired one asked, pointing at Steve before hiding her face shyly when he smiled at her.

“Yeah, Uncle Bucky, who is this?” a young woman asked, coming up on Bucky’s side and rubbing his shoulder gently. She kept her eyes on Steve, taking him in warily, if bemusedly. “He’s just your type.”

Bucky’s cheeks flared a brilliant red and he turned to glare at her. “Becca!” he hissed, kicking at her ankles. “Girls, this is Steve.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” the dark haired one asked.

“I am. Who are you?” Steve asked, reaching out to pinch her shoulder gently.

She giggled and wormed her way back into Bucky’s side. “My name is Anna.”

“I’m Maggie,” the blond greeted, working her fingers unconsciously through Bucky’s hair. He yanked his head back when she tugged too roughly but it didn’t stop her.

“And Becca made herself known. Guys, this is Steve, my boyfriend. Boyfriend Steve, this is my family,” Bucky introduced, bouncing each girl on his hip. “Now are we gonna go dance or what?” he asked, directed at the girls who squealed and nodded their agreement. They wormed out of his arms only to grab his hands and pull him back towards the hall.

“It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am,” Steve said, heading in with Becca by his side. “Buck talks about you so much. I actually kind of feel like a fool because I thought you were all his sisters. I didn’t realize you had little ones.”

Becca laughed and nodded. “Yeah, they’re his world. I don’t know how I would’ve done it after Michael died without Bucky being right next to me most of the time.” She looked pained for a moment before glancing at Steve. “Sorry, was that too much out of the gate?”

“Trust me, ma’am, after these weeks with Bucky, I don’t think I’ll be surprised by first conversations again,” Steve laughed.

“I’m actually surprised Bucky mentioned us. He doesn’t talk to us about his military things and he’d never told his service buddies about us. He’s very private.”

Steve nodded and held the door open for Becca. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. I served too and trying to get him to talk about anything that I can’t find online is like pulling teeth.”

Becca laughed and nodded. “Yeah. It used to drive our mama insane. He’d write about whatever book he was reading, who smelt the worst, send pictures of sand castles him and his idiot buddies made, but never anything serious. We didn’t even know how he got shot until the press got ahold of it.”

“Yeah, he seems like the strong silent type.”

“Until something minorly inconveniences him.”

“Oh, God,” Steve groaned with a laugh, “then I can’t get him to stop talking about it.”

“Exactly!” Becca laughed, hitting Steve’s chest with the back of her hand the same way Bucky always did. “God, he’s the worst with paper cuts and shit like that.”

Steve shook his head but couldn’t wipe away the grin. While they’d been complaining about him, Bucky had taken over the dance floor, dancing with both girls at once. There was a small crowd watching and laughing as he threw the girls over his back and under his legs.

“He’s such a good man, Steve. You can’t ever hurt him,” Becca said suddenly.

Steve nodded grimly. “I don’t have any plans to, ma’am. He’s really something special and I don’t think I could bear to lose that.”

“He’s never really been serious about anyone. Mama thought he would never settle down. And I’m real sad she isn’t around to see him settle so quickly with you, but I’m glad he found you.”

Steve hummed and nodded. “I am too.” Bucky really was special. More than just about anyone Steve had met. “How long does he usually dance with them for?” he asked, gesturing out to Bucky.

“An hour or so. He’ll take breaks. He’s really popular, so you’re gonna have to steal him if you ever want a dance. Do you swing, Steve?”

“Not the way Bucky does, but I can dance.”

Becca hid a smile behind a fake cough and Steve felt pleased with his joke. It was nice that Bucky’s family accepted his sexuality. The girls hadn’t even batted an eyelash and Becca didn’t seem too shocked either.

Steve sat by Becca and they watched Bucky and the girls have fun together. Occasionally they got interrupted by someone pulling Bucky away, letting him really show off. He could swing anyone. Men, women, kids, geriatrics. It was kind of amazing to watch.

Steve used to wish someone could swing him like that. But even at the bar down under the docks where people like him could go to have some fun, no one really wanted to dance with each other. It was one thing if the cops came knocking and you were just chatting a fellow up. It was another thing if they came through the door and you and. your man were tangled together so publicly. Mostly they settled for brushes of hands, crossed ankles, encircled wrists.

Steve wondered how Bucky might fit into a world like that. No doubt he could chase skirt with the best of them, but he was so loving and so open with that love that Steve didn’t know if he could play the game, keep the desires for men tamped down enough not to get caught. He could certainly dance and charm his way out of trouble though.

Eventually, Steve couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to give his excuses to Becca before crossing the dance floor to squat by the girls.

“Do you think I could steal your uncle for a few minutes?” he asked with a smile.

Maggie giggled and nodded, though Anna looked less sure. “What are you gonna do?” she asked.

“Annie!” Bucky laughed, pushing her and her sister away. “Go sit with your mom.”

“I just want to dance with him, same as you,” Steve assured.

She huffed out a breath but went off with her sister so Steve could stand and pull Bucky to him. They swayed together as the song ended, before they could start really dancing.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, resting his cheek against Bucky’s.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Rogers,” Bucky laughed, picking up the tempo as the music started up again.

They danced well together, intuitive and easy. They didn’t run into each other half as much as Steve thought they would. It had been so long since he’d been dancing. And Bucky was so good.

Bucky started off leading, spinning Steve around like Steve didn’t have an inch or two on him. But when the music slowed half way through the song, he let Steve take over, spinning in and out of his arms until they were both too dizzy to continue with the drum solo, though Bucky gave his best effort to kick and jive with the beat.

He collapsed into Steve’s chest, laughing and holding onto Steve’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him upright. A smattering of applause followed but Bucky seemed immune to it all, eyes on Steve alone. It made Steve’s heart soar in his chest like it hadn’t in a real long time.

“My ma woulda loved you,” he sighed suddenly, brushing the loose strands of Bucky’s hair out of his face.

Bucky’s face softened and he leaned into Steve’s chest. It was like the music had faded and everyone else moved away from them. Just him and Bucky and quiet confessions.

“Yeah? I think mine woulda liked you too. She was a little rough, but you coulda melted her.”

Steve grinned at Bucky and leaned down to kiss him softly. “Wish you coulda met her. Wish we’d met a little earlier.”

“You and me both, pal. I made some stupid ass decisions. At least with you around, I’m just fixing your stupid ass decisions.”

Steve snorted and pushed Bucky’s shoulder gently before pulling him close and swaying to the slow dance song that had started playing.

“I love your family. The girls are so cute. I kind of… I don't know, didn’t realize you had nieces. I always thought you had three sisters when yo talked about them. When you said you might go home with girls, I just…” He could feel himself blushing something fierce and he couldn't meet Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky laughed, carefree and beautiful. “Oh, no. No way, man. My sister’s always more willing to set me up with guys, anyway,” he teased. “I can’t believe I never said they were my nieces. I love them, but maybe they’re just my girls in my head and I never said anything about them being, you know, five.”

Steve smiled at Bucky and rubbed his back gently. “Well, between you and me, I’m glad you don’t have consistent hookups waiting for you here.”

“Just you, beautiful man,” Bucky purred. He dropped his head to Steve’s again and Steve let Bucky’s soft breaths and the music wash over him.

 

*  * *

 

It became a habit for Steve to go to swing nights with Bucky and he always went home with Bucky afterwards.They danced all night—with each other, with the girls, with whoever asked nice enough—and then collapsed in bed and fell asleep almost instantly. It was one of the few night they slept all the way through the night without trying to get frisky, or taking calls, or having nightmares.

But all dreams must end.  Bucky woke up to the bed dipping out from behind him. He grumbled slightly, turning his face into his pillow more firmly, but the sound of restrained, but powerful sobbing pulled him out of his half held onto slumber. He shifted over and was met with Steve’s long back, hunched over the bed, face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and as he lifted a hand to wipe at his face, Bucky caught the glint of dog tags in his hand in the low light seeping out of the bathroom.

Bucky sat up and moved to sit awkwardly behind Steve, legs around Steve’s legs, arms going around his waist. Steve jumped slightly but didn’t try to move away. He clutched the tags tighter, enclosing them in his hand. Bucky tucked his head against Steve’s shoulder and just held him close. He didn’t know what to say. He’d always been bad at it. It was probably why he liked Castle. They didn’t have to say jack shit about their feelings or anything deep. Steve seemed very different. And Bucky knew he should offer something up. They were dating, for Christ’s sake. But he couldn’t find words for the aching hurt he knew Steve was still clawing at in his chest.

“Do you...ever think you’ve forgotten something? And-and-and then you remember it all in such vivid, awful detail?”

Bucky nodded against Steve’s shoulder. He did it often. There were entire missions he’d manage to forcibly shove to the very back of his consciousness. And it was usually when he was dreaming that it all returned.

“The-the-the fucking smell, Buck. It’s still in my nose. I shoved my face under a sink full of water and I can still smell it. Like the smoke is _on_ me.”

“I know, baby. I know it’s hard. Sometimes I think I’m still in the middle of a mission. I’ll walk out the door and smell the heat and think I’m out there again. I’m staring at Brooklyn and I think I’m a million miles away.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t- I can’t- be who they want me to be. This...fucking perfect soldier,” Steve whimpered.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve tighter and kissed his shoulder. “No one wants you to be a perfect soldier, Stevie. There’s no such thing. We try our best, we save as many as we can. We follow good orders and ignore the bad. We can only be good men, not perfect soldiers.’

Steve bit out another sob and brought his hand back to tangle it in Bucky’s hair. “You’re...not the first person to tell me that,” he muttered wetly.

“It’s true. We’re just men. We’re not heroes or monsters or whatever people need soldiers to be. We’re flesh and blood and that shit hurts sometimes so you just need to cry and let it out and go to sleep. Tomorrow you try again. You can be good again.”

Steve held onto Bucky’s wrists gently with his free hand, keeping Bucky’s arms close to his waist. Bucky let them sit like that, even when Steve’s body began shaking with a new set of tears. They subsided into stuttering breaths until Steve was mostly breathing correctly and he turned in Bucky’s arms.

“I’ve never...been able to talk to another soldier about things like this. All my friends, all my guys they…” He cringed and ducked his head to press it to Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky brought his hand up to the back of Steve’s head and rubbed his palm over the short hair there. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You can tell me anything,” he promised softly, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. Bucky didn’t know what he’d have done if he didn’t have the Howlies after his first tour, after the shit with Rumlow, if Nat and Clint hadn’t been around after the spec-ops work, if he’d never met Castle. He needed three different support systems to deal with his own shit and he was constantly collecting more, like Sam or Steve.

“I just...always feel like I’m about to lose something, lose someone. I have these...terrible nightmares of you. Falling, getting shot, exploding. I can’t stand them. I can’t stand to see your face, to hear you screaming. God, Bucky, I can still hear it in my head like it’s happening right now.”

Bucky held onto Steve tighter and shook his head. “Nothing’s happening right now except for my beauty sleep ticking away.” Steve scoffed and Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m serious. You’ve never seen me with less than eight hours of sleep. It’s a real thing. You’re not gonna recognize me in the morning. You’ll realize you’ve fallen in love with a troll.”

Both of them fell silent as they realized what Bucky had said. As they realized that it might be true. “Is that what this is, Barnes? Love?”

Bucky rubbed his cheek on Steve’s back and then nodded. “I think so. I don’t know for sure. But I can promise you this, Rogers. No matter what, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line and I ain’t leavin’ without you. I’ll always come back. No explosions, no bullet holes, no falling. I’ll hop back to you on one leg if I have to.”

“‘Til the end of the line,” Steve repeated softly.

“Til the end of the line. As long as I can. I’m going all the way with you.”

“I think we’ve already done that. A few times actually.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh and lifted his head. “Do you want to try’n sleep?” he asked

“I guess if it’s that imperative to your beauty regiment,” Steve said and Bucky grinned, pressing a series of kisses over his shoulder, up his neck, and to his cheek.

“End of the line, baby.” He pulled himself back to his side of the bed and let Steve get adjusted under the comforter before pressing close to him.

“The end of the line,” Steve repeated once more, already dozing back back off. “Love you, Buck,” he mumbled.

Bucky brushed his thumb over Steve’s cheek. “I love you too, big guy.”

 

*  * *

 

As they passed the days together, the weeks also passed until Steve and Bucky were standing in the middle of an airport together, bodies pressed close, heads bent towards each other. Bucky kept his fingers tight in Steve’s light jacket, as if Steve were the one walking away to disappear for six months.

“You’re gonna write, right? I gave you the address,” he said. “Well move, but I’ll get you the information later.”

“I’m gonna write to you, baby. A letter every day for a year,” he murmured with an grin. “Are you gonna call me?”

“As often as I can. You’re gonna get sick of seeing my face on the screen.”

Steve shook his head. “No way. I’ll just be sad that you’re not actually with me. That’s all.”

Bucky leaned in for approximately the millionth kiss of the afternoon.

“Barnes, let’s go, this plane ain't waitin’ for you!” Castle called from the front of the boarding line.

“What kind of military team has to ship off in a commercial plane?” Steve asked with a small smile.

“The kind that’s supposed to be more than secret, so stop talkin’ about it so loud, numbskull,” Bucky answered. He hugged Steve closer and tucked his face into Steve’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you more. Don’t you go forgettin’ that while you’re over there.”

“I can’t forget that. I love you so much.”

Steve pulled Bucky into another kiss, sinking his fingers in Bucky’s hair one last time. Cropped a little shorter, just barely regulation. (“Fuck them, if they’re gonna send us on some covert mission where none of the bastards are around to see my hair, I ain’t keeping it short for them.”)

“You be good out there, Barnes. You know it ain’t gonna be nice to you.”

“I know, I know, Stevie. I’ll be sure to stay the man you fell in love with.”

Steve smiled and bit his lip. “I think I could love every version of you, Bucky Barnes,” he murmured softly.

Bucky beamed up at him and kissed him again. “I have to get on this plane.”

“I know, baby. You do that.”

Bucky took a step back before leaning in to kiss Steve again.

“Barnes, I didn’t spend this long saying goodbye to my kids, let’s go!” Castle snapped. Then there was a hand in Bucky’s collar, pulling him along. Steve trotted along next to them, stealing one last kiss before Castle pulled Bucky onto the plane.

“I love you!” Bucky called.

Steve shook his head, grinning fondly. “Not as much as I love you,” he muttered to no one in particular.

 

*  * *

 

They’d kept the members of the team as separate as possible. They were constantly in out of the state, or even the country, for evals and training. The full list of their team members was never released. Bucky knew about him, Castle, Sam, Riley, Clint, and Natasha. It was a decent enough list for a spec-ops team, but when they landed at their HQ, there were more people.

Castle was the first to find them and announce to the rest of them that were other members with his booming, “Russo, you son of a bitch!”

By the time the rest of the group came into the next room, Castle had a handsome man trapped in a headlock, mussing a head of hair that was almost as out of regulation as Bucky’s. There were three other soldiers, and a general in the room. A surly man in a leather jacket with twitching fingers that kept checking his pockets for a pack of smokes that wasn’t there. Another handsome man that was bouncing around the surly one, cracking jokes and being lewd in the general direction of Castle and Russo. That was sure to change soon. Probably around the time Castle beat the shit out of him.

The third soldier made Bucky’s blood run cold and he couldn’t help but grab the back of Sam’s shirt, holding him back and halfway hiding behind the other man’s body. Brock fucking Rumlow was standing by the general, looking as smug as he ever had. He’d already locked in on Bucky and Bucky felt like a prey animal trapped with nowhere to run.

“Buck, what is it?” Sam asked over his shoulder, bunching his jacket up around his mouth to keep other people in the room from being able to see his mouth moving.

“The man at the front, the soldier, he shouldn’t be here. He’s...he can’t be around me. We can’t be around each other. There was a mistake. They wouldn’t put us on a team together.”

Sam frowned at him, reaching a hand back to squeeze Bucky’s hip before he stepped more squarely in front of him. He didn’t need more of an explanation. Didn’t want one right then. The guy looked like bad news. Like the kind Sam worked so hard to avoid in basics. He pulled Riley closer, whispering in his ear. Riley’s eyes flickered to Bucky, but he didn’t turn to stare or anything. There were no two other people Bucky wanted on his side in this.

Actually, now that he was done trying to rip Russo’s hair out, Castle’s eyes were intense on him too, like he could see Bucky’s distress from where he was. Russo jumped up and threw an arm around Castle’s shoulders, grinning at him and drawing his attention away.

The general standing at the front of the room looked disinterested in them as soldiers, but there was a gleam in his eyes that Bucky attributed to the mission. He was tall and broad, but it was obvious he hadn’t seen the field in many years. He was bald, but still narrow and intimidating in the face. He looked at Bucky and held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away.

“Soldiers, settle down and fall in line,” he ordered. Instantly, everyone was quiet, at attention, bags dropped on the floor. “I know we’ve been particularly non-forthcoming about this mission, but we couldn’t risk you compromising it. We know you all have loved ones, jobs, people you want to tell about your life. We could not have you telling them about this.

“As the world falls to shit around us, it has always fallen to soldiers to maintain the order, the security, and the peace.”

“That’s a little oxymoronic,” Russo muttered to Castle, drawing a snort from both him, and Bucky who’d overheard.

The general glared at them but continued. “Now, particularly, America is looking for ways to tamp out the rise of mid-century enemies and modern terrorism. In World War II, a faction of the Nazis called Hydra emerged. Thought killed after the war, we’ve recently found them recuperating here. Your mission is to find the bastards and kill them, with whatever force is necessary, at any cost.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably by Bucky’s side and Bucky pinched his waist to keep him still.

“This team is made up of Army, Marines, Air Force, and Special Forces. That doesn’t mean shit to me, and from now on, it doesn’t mean shit to you. You’re no longer Army or Marines or what the fuck ever. You’re just this team. Is that clear?”

The answer was instantaneous, the speech a bunch of repeated words from every other spec-ops team Bucky had been on. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Good. Get to know your brothers and sisters. Grab your gear bag, check out your weapons. We’ll send you to your barracks later this evening, after we’re sure the area is clear of all threats.

“No one ranking, or staying out of the field, will be involved in this mission Like we said, getting compromised out here is not an option. WE’re keeping as many people out of this as possible. Since I won’t be here, you’ll be taking commands from Major Barnes.”

The news knocked Bucky back a step and he blinked up at the general, even as Sam whipped around to stare at him. He hadn’t fucking known. He wasn’t ready to lead a special operations force when he hardly knew the mission.

“Godspeed to you all. And good luck.”

And just like that, the man walked out of the room. Bucky didn’t watch him leave, keeping shifting eyes on the rest of the team. He felt flayed open, left on display, like everyone was trying to see him as a leader. But it must have been only his worry because the rest of the team was shifting around and not looking at him at all. They grumbled amongst themselves and the handsome, irritating one got threatened by two different people before he’d even grabbed his gear bag.  If Brock fucking Rumlow wasn’t on the team, Bucky would’ve said this guy was their biggest liability. Anyone who disturbed the peace of resting teams was a danger to that team.

Bucky reached for a bag, but the surly man with the crazy hair knocked his hand out of the way. “Watch it, kid,” he muttered. “You don’t want this bag. You ain’t gonna get the guns you want.”

Get to know your brothers and all, Bucky thought. “Barnes,” he greeted, reaching for the bag behind the one he’d tried to grab. “Military. Sniper.”

“Logan. Special Forces. Mean-Son-Of-A-Bitch,” the man answered.

It startled a laugh out of Bucky and he nodded. “I hear that, man.”

“That’s Wade Wilson,” Logan said, nodding over his shoulder where the handsome, irritating one was examining a truly stunning array of knives in front of him. “You’ll get used to him. And you can punch him if you don’t. He won’t mind.”

Bucky snorted out another laugh. “Noted, sir. Uh, I guess, Sam Wilson and Riley Wiatrek are my guys. They’re Air Force.”

He saw Logan take in the jet packs Sam and Riley were strapping into. “Don’t tell me they actually fly.”

Bucky grinned. “They actually fly.”

“Fucking gimmicks.”

“You know, that’s what I said too.” It was like the universe conspired to put someone as grumpy as Bucky could be on this team with him. It did not make up for Rumlow being on the squad.

“Uh, Frank Castle. Marines. Also a mean son of a bitch. That’s his best friend, basically his brother, Billy Russo. Also Marines. Not as mean.”

But there was something about Russo that Bucky had never gotten over. He’d only met him a few times, but Bucky felt like every time he saw the mask Russo was wearing, even if no one else could.

“And then Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton. Special Forces,” he said, nodding to the last two in the room. Clint, for some reason, had a bow and arrow in his hand and a quiver thrown over his back. He’d already changed into his gear and Bucky also didn’t understand the vest he was wearing. He was going to burn his arms all to hell if he had stake out duty.

“Well, hopefully all of those fucks can stay alive,” Logan said, shouldering his bag and heading to the door. “I’m going to find the barracks on my own.”

Bucky wasn’t going to argue with him. Logan was older than he was, had probably served longer. And he really did just look mean. If someone wanted to reprimand him, it could be that general.

“I hear people call him Orange,” Russo said, as if he could read Bucky’s thoughts. Bucky looked up, expecting Russo and Castle to be at his elbow, but they were still a few steps away, talking to each other, not even looking at Bucky. He must have just honed in on the conversation.

“Still, what kind of commander doesn’t give his name?” Castle asked with a scoff. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to. He’s gone for the mission unless we really fuck up,” Russo assured.

Jesus, they were completely alone out here and Bucky was supposed to lead them. This was going to be a long six months.

 

(Art by [ChildOfWintre](http://childofwintre.tumblr.com) )

 

 

*  * *

 

It has fucking hot. It was always fucking hot, three weeks of this shit and only occasssional surveillance or stake outs had proved as much. But today everyone was stripped down, nearly to their boxers in the barrack. Clint was sprawled across the concrete floor because “it’s cooler down here, guys” and even Natasha had undressed to shorts and a tank top. Bucky had never seen her out of uniform when they were deployed. Choppers roared outside, heading back to the military base and by-passing them completely. It was still and quiet and _hot_.

Bucky couldn’t stand it. Anything could set off the barrack like an explosion. All it was going to take was one person moving too quickly for a gun, or one unfamiliar voice outside, for everything to descend into chaos.

Wade Wilson was enough chaos for one barrack. He hadn’t stopped talking since they’d been camped out. Even when they were under heavy fire in the choppers during a surveillance gone wrong in week two, he was going on and on. Bucky was ready to fucking strangle him. Next to Wilson was the guy who came in with him, and Wilson’s exact opposite. Logan remained surly and silent, and still glared at everyone around him. Even with sweat pouring down his face, his hair still stood at attention like horns. Fucking ridiculous.

Castle and Russo were on either end of Castle’s bed. Russo was doing something inane and partially contraband, while Frank dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled a bag of weaponry. They were easy together, moved together the way Sam and Riley did, but there was something off about them. Bucky couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was just that he liked Castle a lot more than he liked Russo and he thought Castle could do better than Russo for a chosen brother.

Sam and Riley were next to each other on the beds they’d shoved together. Don’t ask don’t tell their asses. Most everyone in this barrack would defend them if anyone came asking questions, but not a single higher official had so much as phoned in. Sam was cleaning the wings because they’d already malfunctioned in the sand once and Riley was reading, occasionally interrupting Sam to show him a passage.

At the far end of the barrack, Brock fucking Rumlow made himself at home across two beds, all his shit on one and all of his body on another. Had Bucky known that Brock fucking Rumlow was going to be on this team, he would have told them he wanted to retire instead. Brock fucking Rumlow should’ve been in a military prison, rotting. Before shipping out to the barracks and losing contact, Sam and Riley had filed a complaint about Rumlow being with them, and Castle had requested Rumlow be moved to a different team. So far, no one had responded.

It was hot and something was wrong with this team. Bucky tried to force the thoughts away. He just needed to relax. He had half a mind to ask Castle for a gun to clean. Or to join Sam and pick out grains of sand from minute gaps in the metal plates of the wings.

He laid back and closed his eyes, thinking of home and Steve. He bet Steve was watching TV right now. What time was it in New York? Probably ten in the evening. He was probably watching the news. Bucky settled his head further against the pillow and let thoughts of Steve out at a club morph into thoughts of _him and Steve_ in a club. He dropped a hand to his chest, brushing his fingers along the dip in his pectorals slowly. He threw in a yawn in case anyone was watching.

He thought about Steve’s hands roaming his body and the hot press of his fingertips against his ribs or holding onto the divots under his hip bones. He thought about the way he could drop his head back and fit it perfectly against Steve’s neck and shoulder, the way he could feel every curve of Steve’s body against his when they were back to chest, Steve’s hips working against his ass, harder and harder until--

“I’m going to go make a phone call,” Russo said. Bucky jumped slightly on the bed, any fantasy stirring in him wilting just as fast. Half a dozen pairs of eyes turned to Russo.

Clint held out his hand boredly from his position on the ground. “Let me see the encryption.”

“Dude, you know the encryption is fine. It’s been fine for all the other phone calls.”

“Why do you need so many damn calls?” Logan asked roughly.

The tension was starting to crackle and Bucky sat up in his bed. He pulled on his tank top in case someone wanted a fight and he needed to vacate the barracks. He was not getting into it with the guys in this building.

“I’m trying to start a business stateside. Gotta be in contact with them,” Russo said nonchalantly. Ever the professional, it took even Bucky a second to find the edge to his voice. Russo wasn’t used to hearing no, especially not from the likes of Barton and Logan.

“Yeah, and we all got boy toys stateside too that we wanna be in contact with,” Wade said. “Life doesn’t always give us what we want.”

“You’re lucky to have that phone out here at all. We’re a fuckin’ secret ops mission. You even give away what country we’re in and this blows to shit,” Logan growled.

“Ah, man, you better not’ve used the only f-bomb allowed in this story,” Wade whined.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Wilson?” Frank snapped, clicking pieces of his rifle back together for the millionth time that afternoon.

“Man, didn’t we agree he didn’t deserve that name?” Sam asked with a groan.

Bucky’s heart kicked up in his chest and he pulled a pillow into his lap to pick at the seams. He glanced at Natasha and found her already looking at him. Though she appeared loose, he could see the coil of muscle in her legs, the twitch of her fingers towards the gun she kept under her pillow. He was right there with her.

“I’m going to go take my call,” Russo said again.

“Encryption. _Now_.” Everyone looked at Clint, because they hadn’t really heard that hard, demanding side of him before.

“Just fuckin’ hand over the phone, man,” Brock groaned. Bucky’s fingers curled against the pillow, but he couldn’t fight Rumlow on this one.

Russo scoffed, perfect lips curled into a snarl as he threw the phone at Clint. Had it been Sam or Wade or probably even Bucky, the phone would’ve nailed them square in the back. But it was Clint, so he caught it without looking like he put in any effort.

Clint checked the encryption in less time than they’d been arguing about it. He threw the phone back at Russo and dropped his head back onto the floor. Russo leveled a nasty glare around the room before he schooled his expression back into something neutral. He stepped outside and the atmosphere in the room deflated.

Bucky leaned back in his bed and grabbed the tattered paperback he’d been reading. He’d grabbed it on a food run earlier in the week and he was trying to make it last, even though the plot was good and he was actually kind of invested in these characters’ lives. Leave it to shitty, fifty-cent sci-fi. He was ten pages further than he had been when something exploded outside, close enough that the windows shattered inwards and the heat of the day and the blast blew through. Castle was the first one up and his face had gone pale.

“Billy!” he shouted, tugging on his boots and jumping through the empty window without grabbing his jacket or bothering to tie his shoes. Everyone else was suddenly a flurry of movement, getting dressed and grabbing weapons and running out the door. As he and Natasha squeezed through at the same time, another explosion erupted and the entire barracks swayed with it, plaster raining down from the roof.

Barton pulled himself through the window by them and then climbed onto the roof. ( _“I think better up high, sue me”_ )

“What’re we seeing, Barton?” Sam asked into a comm in his ear. He and Riley were pulling on the wing packs without knowing the skies were clear and Bucky hesitated. He was a commander. He could ground them until they knew what was happening. But a third explosion sounded and Barton gave a defeated, “I can’t tell. I don’t see anything,” and Bucky knew they needed eyes in the sky.

“You don’t take off until we have a little more information and some cover fire,” he ordered, pulling Sam hard by the chest harness of the pack. Sam pressed his forehead against Bucky’s, fierce and intimate. They grabbed the back of each other’s heads at the same time

“You keep us safe up there, Sarge,” he said. Both of them nodded and pulled apart. Sam and Riley ran out the back door and Bucky returned to Natasha’s side at the front.

“Barton, you got eyes on where this shit is coming from?” Bucky asked, spinning in a circle as he got further out. He could only see one explosion site.

“The furthest is almost due north, maybe a mile out,” Barton answered. “One south-east, you got eyes on that, Barnes?”

“Confirmed,” Bucky said with a pointless nod. “The third site?”

“North--”

Another explosion and this time the building came down and hot fire licked around Bucky, throwing him back in the blast.

He scrambled up, ignoring the pain radiating through his body from the landing and minor burns.

“Barton?!” he shouted into his comm. “Barton, do you copy?”

The line cackled and a few other sounded off--Logan, Natasha, Sam and Riley.

It took a full minute before Logan’s voice answered him. “I’ve got Barton. He was thrown from the explosion. Minor burns, fractured wrist, gash in his leg from debris. Does anyone have eyes on Wade?”

The line was silent and Bucky turned to kick the dust around him. “Did anyone see him leave the fucking barracks!?” he shouted into the comms.

“He was still in there when I left,” Rumlow answered, and of course _he_ fucking survived.

“What the fuck just happened? Castle, do you copy? Are you with Russo?”

“I hear you loud and clear, Sarge. I can’t find Billy.” And Bucky could hear the strain in his voice, the hurt that he was refusing to deal with right then.

Then there was fire and Bucky looked around. For the first time, he realized he was alone. He could barely see the smoldering mess of the barracks. Could see Sam and Riley swooping down with what little water was kept in the suits for emergencies like this. Stark had wanted to commercialize the wings, make it something that firefighters could use too, like this. He’d wanted to expand Sam and Riley’s pack to include more holding capacity, but they’d shipped out before then. All Sam and Riley could do now would be to contain it, extinguish the middle and hope the walls would just collapse into the sand.

“Who’s firing?” he asked, already starting back to the camp at a jog. He’d wanted to run but his leg was killing him and, really, was the barrack going anywhere.

“Barton, Romanov, and Logan are engaged in fire,” Riley answered. “Do you want us down to help?”

“How many combatants?”

“Unclear, Sarge.”

“Fire from the air, stay away from our guys. Shoot at anything incoming,” Bucky ordered roughly. “Tell me where I need to go.”

“Buck, there’s a whole fleet coming in on Castle and Rumlow, a thousand feet northwest of the barracks,” Sam told him.

“Lay down a line of fire between them. Rumlow, Castle, hold your position.”

“Roger that, Barnes,” Castle said. His voice was hard and edged in a way that Bucky had only heard when they’d come up on a robbery in their favorite sub shop in Hell’s Kitchen. Castle had put a knife through a guy’s eye that night. Bucky didn’t want to know what he’d do out here.

“Give me three minutes for back up.”

Bucky started in the direction that Sam told him, but stopped by the burning building first. “Wilson?” he called, coughing on smoke and jumping back as a piece of the wall came down.

“Barnes?” a small voice asked from towards the back.

“Wade? Oh my God, Jesus. Can you stand? Where are you?” Bucky hacked violently again and then started into the building, fire be damned. That was one of his guys.

“Don’t leave me here. God, get me out. The bed...fuckin'…” Wade coughed and didn’t start talking again.

The plaster walls worked to the advantage here. Sam and Riley had extinguished most of the beds and the plaster itself wasn’t burning, only the wallpaper that curled and floated away quickly. Bucky just had to fight through the heat and the smoke.

“Wilson’s alive?” Logan asked down the line. For all his bravado and that facade of apathy, Logan and Wilson came in together. They’d been on a team together before this. And that kind of brotherhood didn’t just go away with a leave and reassignment.

“Yeah. I’m trying to get to him now,” Bucky answered, bringing on a new fit of coughing.

“Don’t, Barnes. I can get to him faster,” Logan said. Bucky could tell he was running now, but Bucky was stuck and Wade was whimpering.

“Please don’t leave me, Barnes. Don’t walk outta here without me.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Wilson. Can you push up on whatever’s on top of you?” Bucky asked, scanning the room.

Eventually, weakly, a bed in the back started to move. Bucky could hardly see it but that was good enough. He ran over, falling into one false bottom on his way when a mattress he thought was whole gave out under his boot. He felt his ankle twist sharply, but, dammit, he was so close.

Just as he was dropping down next to Wade, the door burst in again, falling off its hinges finally. Logan was beside them quickly, parts of his beard singed and still on fire. That wasn’t half the horror that Wade was. Bucky could already see the severe scarring on his face, much less what damage had been done to him by half the building collapsing on him. He wouldn’t look away though, pulling the mattress off of Wade as Logan pulled his body out.

“Get out of here, kid. I got him. Wilson, you got evac?” Logan asked and it took Bucky too long to realize he was talking to Sam and not Wade.

“I’m sending Riley over to you. Buck, you need evacuation too?”

“Negative, Sam. I’ve got it. Keep everyone else safe. What’re we looking like out there?”

“Hostiles a mile north. Coming in around us. Riley and I are trying to hold them back, but we can only face two directions.”

“You’re doing fine. Reinforcements will be here soon. We just need to hold them off for a few more minutes. Do you see the aircrafts coming in?”

“See them on my radar, but nothing with my eyes, even with the goggles.”

“Just hold on, Sam. We’re gonna get out of this.”

“Copy, Sarge. Holdin’ you to it.”

Bucky kicked a mattress after he got Wade situated with Logan. This was a shitshow and there was no way they were all walking away from this.

“What do they want, Logan? We’re a small troop. We haven’t _done_ anything yet.”

Logan leveled him with that unimpressed gaze, but Bucky was starting to see the fire behind his eyes. “We’re some of the most elite soldiers America has to offer. Why not try to kill half of us at once?”

“They could’ve just dropped the bomb on the barracks. This is… Logan, they want something. Information or one of us. I don’t know. This isn’t about wiping us out.”

Logan took a second to measure his response, but by the time he opened his mouth, Riley was landing outside and Logan was pulling Wade out.

“Don’t look for answers, Barnes. Get yourself the hell out of here,” Logan growled.

“Barnes, I could use that back up you promised half an hour ago!” Castled called down the line.

Bucky sighed and took off through the back door while Logan took care of Wade’s mangled body. He was making his way out towards Castle’s location,  but he didn’t get very far before there were three people wrangling him down. He felt his rifle kick back against his ribs as it fired into the dirt, and then someone was wresting it from his shoulders. Next thing he knew, the butt of his rifle was being shoved into his head once, twice, three times before his face hit the sand and he blacked out.

 

*  * *

 

A white heat pain woke him up momentarily and he thought he saw flames licking up the side of his body, but he passed out again too quickly to know for sure.

 

*  * *

 

His head smacked on the doorframe entering a building and his body panicked as the bright light of the desert gave way to the pitch black of a sealed room.

 

*  * *

 

His head lolled forward and it jerked his body into action, one final desperate shot of adrenaline. He heard voices behind him. Low, hushed, but worried.

_“What is that fucking smell?”_

_“I think it’s his arm. It’s rotting off.”_

But the words were slow in Bucky’s brain and it took too long to understand them. They were backwards and wrong and choppy. Like they were speaking a different language.

_“We should just throw him out to die in the sun.”_

But Bucky didn’t know Arabic or Hindi or Farsi or Hebrew. He didn’t speak anything that should be out here.

_“We could just cut the arm off.”_

Russian? Bucky strained to think cognizantly but his head was aching like there were knives in his brain.

 _“Who are you?”_  Bucky bit out in jagged, broken Russian. He heard the people behind him shift and a few moments later, they were in front of him, jerking his head back and peering at his face.

 _“He’s dying. The serum better work.”_ The man who had Bucky’s hair shoved his head down again. _“Ask your questions now. He won’t be of any use in a week.”_

 _“What did you do to me?”_ Bucky demanded weakly. _“How long has it been?”_

Bucky struggled to pick his head up and watched the two men stare at each other for too long. His head was aching and terror was beginning to creep into his system. He tried to remember training for this, but it only reminded him of the horror he’d felt when learning how to deal with torture. He’d gone through two damn tours and never been hurt badly. How was this happening now, on a team of the most trained soldiers he’d ever worked with?

“Major Barnes,” the man said in accented English. “You’re quite the war hero.”

Bucky really wasn’t. The only reason his actions got half of the attention that it did was because the CO on the mission was covering his own ass. Bucky had never been threatened while a medal of valor was being pinned to his chest.

“Only a sergeant and already you were making waves.”

“Where did you learn to speak English? Shitty eighties cops movies?” Bucky scoffed.

He should have expected the back hand, sharp and explosive over his cheek. Still, it knocked the air from his lungs. The zipties around his wrists dug into his skin as he tilted to one side.

It took a moment, but suddenly Bucky was howling in pain because he was pretty sure the plastic had cut all the way through his tendons and bones on his left side. His body strained violently, trying to ease the pain and get away from it at the same time. All it did was dig the plastic further into his wrist.

 _“He’s going to rip his arm off himself. We need to cut it off,”_ the other man said, back to Russian.

“ _I know what you’re saying_ , shitfuck,” Bucky growled. “ _You’re not cutting my arm off_.”

“You’ll find, Major Barnes, you’re not really in a position to argue,” the bigger guy snorted. He pulled Bucky’s hair back again and Bucky was really beginning to regret growing it out in the first place. The buzzcut really hadn’t been that bad, had it?

“ _I want answers first. If you let him bleed out, we’ll never know anything._ ”

Bucky glared weakly at the man, ignoring the stuttering of his heart in his chest. He thought he might let it beat right out from his ribs if it meant he didn’t have to stay in this shit hole for much longer.

“I’m not telling you shit,” he spat, and was a little worried at the string of saliva and blood that dribbled from his lips.

The shorter man barked out a harsh laugh. “ _We shall see, soldat_.”

And then he reared back and hit Bucky square in the face.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky woke up to the feeling of needles in his skin. The hollows of his collarbones. Between his ribs. At his temples. The corners of his eyes. Under his arms. Either side of his nipples. The thin, taut skin between his hips. Up the inside of his thighs. The small of his back. Framing the V of his groin. The backs of his knees. The bottom of his feet.

He was terrified. He was imagining every twitch of muscles that would paralyze him. He worried about what they were putting into him. Why it had to be the most sensitive parts of his body. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, falling down the side of his face.

_“We shouldn’t give him the serum until we know he won’t fight.”_

_“Does he look capable of fighting? It will be fine.”_

_“You saw the files. He’s already enhanced. He should be dead but he has enhancements. If he fights, we die.”_

_“Then give him more drugs. Keep him down. But if it affects the serum and he dies, it will be your fault and we will test you next.”_

_“You’re not getting that shit anywhere near me.”_

_“Until it is right and you can be super powered?”_

The voices laughed and Bucky felt another needle slide under his skin. It was like liquid fire when the plunger went down. Like every vein in his body was bursting all at once.

He screamed so hard he felt the needles at his eyes shift in his skin.

 

*  * *

 

Electricity straight on his face, into his head. It was an all consuming pain. They trained for this. They trained for torture that could break them. What was he supposed to do? Steve. Steve was involved. A beach. A good day. Warm, sand, the waves. God, it all hurt so much.

His body was convulsing so badly he could feel his insides shaking.

He vomited, sitting upright. It bubbled out of his mouth, sat in his throat. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t think. It hurt so badly. He was trying to scream and choking on vomit that was nothing more than bile and water and bread.

He wanted to call out for Steve. What did Steve have to do with this? There was something. He was supposed to be fighting.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky woke up again and the metallic tang of blood was the first thing that greeted him. When he looked down at the red collar of his tank top and the growing ring under it, he thought that was fair. His body ached, but differently than it had been. Like he’d been exercising too hard. Like when he had to help Jimmy move and his new apartment had been on the third floor and the elevator had been out of commision. Bucky had been so sore he woke up and thought he’d been stabbed.

Right now, his chest looked like he’d been stabbed. But there a muted-ness about the pain. It was dull, pounding. Not sharp. Even his nose didn’t hurt as he choked in breaths. _Drugged_ , his mind supplied helpfully.

He dragged his eyes to his arm and found dark red blood over the bare tendons of his arms. There was a deep cut high in his bicep that sliced down to his bone, but he didn’t feel any of it. Hell, he couldn’t feel his arm enough to even twitch his fingers.

His face was hot, wet. He thought he’d been crying, or maybe he’d lost control of his salivary glands again, but it was a constant wetness, moist. He tried to look down, but couldn’t see the lower half of his face at all. The only thing he could pick up on was two dark arches of some contraption that was digging into his cheekbones.

Half delirious with hunger and thirst and panic, the only think Bucky could think was that he hoped it didn’t leave scars on his face. People liked his cheekbones. It made him look old-timey.

“Soldat,” one of the Russians barked. Bucky let his head loll back up, trying to focus his gaze on anything in particular.

“ _Does he look like he’s healing?”_

 _“Not that fucking arm. But look at the cuts on the other side. The wound on his ribs_.”

The men stepped forward. Bucky couldn’t remember if he knew them or not. If he were in charge of torturing someone without masks on, he thought he’d send the same two idiots from his organization so the detainee couldn’t describe too many people. But no one had asked Bucky.

The short one pulled at a hole in Bucky’s tank top to reveal the waxy pink skin of a scar that Bucky couldn’t remember receiving.

“ _The flesh cuts are completely healed. The bullet wound scarred over in hours_.”

“ _So the serum works?”_

_“On everything except the rotting piece.”_

_“Well, that was before we began the procedure_.”

The first man grunted and shrugged. “ _Put him on ice. See if it helps him heal.”_

_“What do we do if the arm isn’t any better? It’s half cut off already.”_

The man shrugged. “ _Rip the rest of it off then.”_

Bucky tried to argue but his words came out muffled and desperate. No matter how loud he shouted, the words didn’t come any clearer. Like he was screaming into a pillow or under water.

“Don’t be like that, Soldat. You’ve done so good,” the second man said as the first walked out the door. Bucky hadn’t felt stalked in his life--even by the girl in high school who literally followed him home every day--but, watching the man approach him, the only word he could think of was stalking. Stalking and knowing the prey had no escape.

Bucky was so fucked.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky was sitting in a chair he couldn’t remember but feral terror was making his heart race. He’d never felt fear like this. What had he done ever? Who had he been? He’d been scared. Scared so badly he was shaking and someone had clapped a big hand over his shoulder, pulled him down. Pulled him down into what? Why? Who did that? What was he thinking of?

He couldn’t remember anything but this room. Even that he couldn’t remember. But he remembered fear. He fought as one arm was restrained. He couldn’t move the other. Couldn’t even feel it. He looked over and found a burnt husk of something that couldn’t be his arm. He wouldn’t be awake if that was his arm. His brain would shut down his body. The pain would be unbearable.

The lock clicked around his other wrist, his elbow, his bicep. He screamed and didn’t know why. He’d been restrained before. He was supposed to be acting tougher than he was. He didn’t know why. He just knew that he was. He was supposed to be fighting something.

A hand shoved him back, right in the middle of the chest. Cold. Bare skin on bare skin. _Steve shoving him back in a chair, a shitty, dirty song playing in the background. Steve’s hips, relentless and teasing_.

That didn’t mean anything. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t make anything stick in his brain. A body clattered to the floor on his left. His arm ache, dull and muted, like the nerves were working through cotton to tell him. A flare of pain. His head to the side, staring at the ground and stringy hair. Not his. His had never been that long. Who’s hair was in his face?

Someone shoved him back again. Who else touched his chest? Who else threw him down in a chair? A broken halo descended around him, locking onto his face. He was hyperventilating. Going light headed. Screaming. Screaming. So much pain. Not muted. Not dull.

Not anything.

 

*  * *

 

“But I knew him.”

He called me Bucky and I knew him. He called me…

“I knew him.”

He called me…

He called me…

Rubber and pain and pain and pain.

 

*  * *

 

The cold blast of a metal table under his bare, sweat drenched skin shocked Bucky back into consciousness. He struggled futilely for a minute, but the feeling of strong medical straps around his aching chest and arms and legs was enough to still him. After he’d been shot in his second deployment, he’d hurt himself even  more every time they got him on an operating table, so they’d eventually strapped him down. It’d been the oddest sensation, to wake up and wonder if his life had been a lie and he was actually a criminal. He’d been on a lot of drugs, and that’s just the first place his mind went. The Commandos laughed at him for months afterwards and even now they still ragged on his ‘jail sentence’.

Now, Bucky didn’t think he was a criminal. He knew what he was. Where he was. There were more straps now. It felt like the only thing that didn’t have straps around it was his ruined arm. He snuck a glance at it and felt bile rise quickly in the back of his throat.

He’d heard of phantom sensations, so he’d expected for his brain to trick him into seeing his arm, no matter how bad the damage was. Instead, he couldn’t have even said that what was attached to his shoulder _was_ an arm.

“Hey, Ruskie fuck faces!” he shouted towards the ceiling. He didn’t know where the words came from, what they meant. They felt normal. Natural. He didn’t want to say anything else. Pain was creeping into his consciousness, which was his only clue that they’d stopped drugging him. Stopped...doing something to him. Something. It hurt. His head, his thoughts. They’d stopped doing something. “You bastards can kill Apollo Creed but you’re not gonna hurt me!”

The sound vibrated around him and, for a second, he worried that he was still just shouting muffled curses that he could only hear in his head. But a door opened behind him and doctors flooded in, in weird green coats. Scrubs, he eventually realized. Not lab coats. That was...reassuring? He wasn’t just an experiment. This was a real procedure.

“Major Barnes, you’ll forgive the scientific curiosity,” one of them said. He was shorter than anyone Bucky had been dealing with in this hell. Squatter too. And he was speaking with a heavy German accent, which sent shivers over Bucky’s spine. He knew they were hunting down Nazis, but they was something about meeting an actual German Nazi that made Bucky feel like he was in the middle of World War II and that he wasn’t getting out of it in one piece.

“Fuck your scientific curiosity,” Bucky spat. He felt his GI bill wither. He wondered if he still got free school for his engineering degree now. That had been...something. Something he wanted. Something away from this hell hole.

“We’re going to run a few tests. It will hurt, but it is in the name of science. You’re going to help change the world, Major Barnes,” the German continued as if Bucky hadn’t spoken. “We’ll need you to be careful. The only danger to you in this room is yourself. Nurse…”

The German stepped back and someone else took his place, securing a strap over Bucky’s head. “Bite this,” he said, shoving something rubber in Bucky’s mouth. It felt like the mouth guard he’d used in high school football. Like two of them stacked on top of each other. It made his jaw ache. It made panic rise in him and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t just football. It was something else. Something worse.

Bucky’s heart was hammering against his chest, banging on each rib over it. Adrenaline and fear were making him light headed. He wished he’d gotten one last video call out to his sister, to Steve. They’d be waiting at home for him. They weren’t going to have an answer. Had the military already told them he was MIA? Were they already worried? Was there an empty casket ceremony? Why hadn’t he thought about any of that yet? Why hadn’t he tried to get word out?

Bucky forced himself to stop thinking like that. He didn’t know how long it had been. Maybe evac hadn’t even gotten to the team yet. He hope for Wade’s sake it had, but he wasn’t going to make any bets. Between continuously passing out and the weird lapses in memory, he had no idea how long it has been.

Something whirred off to his side and then it was touching his skin and Bucky was screaming. He’d never felt as feral as he did right then. Every particle in his body was trying to scamper away and he was writhing so badly he could feel things popping out of place.

And then he passed out.

 

[End Part 1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally my favorite part of this whole fic is Patriot. Sorry not sorry.  
> Feel like shouting about Bucky Barnes and how he deserves all the love and attention? Or about Frank Castle and why all my favorite characters are serial murderers? My tumblr is [ABarbaricYalp](http://www.abarbaricyalp.tumblr.com)


	2. During

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the much longer [Bucky Barnes Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1254622999/playlist/312buLdDSIlAj4CEG4mYE3?si=k_tgvtWrSDuqaajQ9pcdXg) for these chapters!

By some weird happenstance, Steve was at the Tower when the call came in. By an even weirder happenstance, he was asleep, which was rarely the case when he was stuck in the Tower. He blearily reached over, pawing blindly at where he’d left his phone the night before. Bucky wasn’t set to call for at least another month, so Steve wasn’t too concerned with checking his phone obsessively recently.

Finally, the screen came on and Steve flipped backward into his blankets. The call information moved over his head. It was an unknown number, but that wasn’t unusual. All these spies in his life had a new phone every other day and were building harder encryptions twice as fast.

“Rogers, take me off speakerphone,” Fury barked at him. “I don’t need Stark’s whole compound listening to me.

Steve didn’t think people in Stark’s compound cared about whatever Fury had to say at three in the morning. Still, he grabbed his phone and held it to his ear so the automatic projection shut off. “This is Rogers,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Need you to get ready to deploy. You’re taking the Invaders with you.”

“Wouldn’t go with another team. What’s the mission?” Already, he was trying to remember where all the pieces of his suit were and if he trusted Stark’s design enough to take it with him.

“An American spec-ops team was attacked late last night, our time. You and the Invaders need to run location and extraction of a missing service member.”

“This isn’t the normal MO for the Invaders. Why are you sending us out?” Steve asked. He forced himself out of his bed and started to dress.

“Because we have strong suspicions that it was Hydra who took the soldier.” Despite the time since Steve’s own service, he felt his skin crawl. He didn’t even realize Hydra was something the men on the frontline were even working against still. “We think they’re going to be running super soldier experiments on him and information extraction.”

“You think they’re medically torturing him,” Steve corrected with a hard edge to his voice. “Where’s the rest of the spec-ops team?”

“In a secure location. Rumor has it, they’re planning their own location and extraction.”

“You’re allowing that?”

“We have someone on the team. We’re keeping an eye on the situation. But there’s not going to be any putting these kids in a corner. We might as well let them try and then take the information they find.”

Steve sighed. It sounded like bullshit. Like using soldiers who didn’t know they were being used. Then again, what else was new with this organization?

“Wheels up in three hours, Rogers. We’ll come to you if you get the rest of the team there.”

The line went dead and Steve let out a heavy sigh. He threw the phone back on his bed and pressed both hands over his face. He better be home in time to grab Bucky’s call in the next weeks. He thought about leaving a message for him to get later, but Bucky had been pretty adamant that Steve not tempt fate and risk his phone going off in the middle of something important.

Steve pulled himself together and grabbed a bag of essentials before climbing to the heli-deck of the Tower. McKenzie was already waiting for him. Steve caught the gold glint of his wristbands before he actually saw McKenzie skulking in the shadows.

“Fury said to wait here. Hammond’s on his way. I think he was stopping to grab something from Fury, like the lap dog he is.”

“You gonna wear that out in the middle of the desert?” Steve asked skeptically. For some reason, he didn’t think McKenzie’s speedo was going to cut it in the middle of “It’s going to be sunny. There won’t be water for you to recuperate.”

“I’m not a fish,” McKenzie scoffed. Still, he knocked his wrist bands together and a mostly full body suit erupted over his skin. Still, there was a deep v down to below his navel, and the suit was so tight, Steve could still see every bulge of Atlantean muscle.“New Atlantean tech. I would like to see your billionaire try that.”

Steve didn’t mention that many of Stark’s suits did work exactly like that. He focused his attention on Hammond, who was not subtle as he rocketed through the sky and crashed onto the heli-deck. He straightened himself out with a shy smile at Steve and a half glare over his shoulder at McKenzie.

“Put your eyebrows down, Namor. I had to grab our intel.”

“Humans,” McKenzie scoffed. He knocked his wrists together and his suit retracted back.

“Oh, good, I thought we’d be kept from seeing your tits. Compelled only to stare at your cleavage all the way down to your--”

“Enough, you two. Hammond, can I see the reports? Fury wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.”

“Yeah, he thinks the lines are compromised,” Hammond agreed. “If you asked him, the whole damn government is.”

“Dramatic,” McKenzie sighed.

Even Steve couldn’t quite stop his own scoff at that, because it was only this side of hypocritical.

“The information about that mission should only have been known by the team,” Hammond continued.

“So Fury thinks someone on the team comprised them,” Steve finished.

Hammond nodded and McKenzie rolled his eyes. “Whomever it was to compromise the team should face judge, jury, and executioner by that team,” he said roughly.

Steve knew he should abominish him, but he kind of agreed. It was a low to betray your team like that, to put everyone in danger, and for what? Money? Prestige? Steve couldn’t fathom it. Not unless his family was in danger. Then again, if Steve still had family, he didn’t think he’d join a spec-ops team. Even just having Bucky on one was enough to drive him up a wall.

“We’ll go to the base. Search around the area. Does this say where they’re keeping the rest of the team?” Steve asked, flipping through the papers.

“Yeah, but Fury said not to touch them,” Hammond answered. He started to stay something else, but it was drowned out by the helicarrier appearing suddenly. Steve scowled at it, but stepped back into the safety of the awning. Hammond followed but McKenzie took to the sky to get out of the way. Disdain was clear on his face. He wasn’t a fan of taking aircrafts, but it was a long journey and Steve was insisting.

After all three of them were securely on board, and the ship was airborne and on auto pilot, Steve turned to the other two. “How is it that every time we end up on a battlefield, it’s the two of you next to me?” he asked with a small smirk.

“We’re the only other old people you can keep around,” Hammond laughed.

“I’m not old. Atlanteans age differently than you surface dwellers.”

“It’s all the oxygen not in the air,” Hammond agreed with faux sage-ness. “Or, maybe you’re just too arrogant to age.”

Steve snorted and settled into the pilot’s seat. He watched the scenery pass by over and over, enjoying the mindless bickering between his two oldest friends. Steve had never met the Commandos before, but the way Bucky’s eyes lit up when he talked about them was enough to let Steve know that there was the same deep rooted bond between them that Steve found in McKenzie and Hammond. Then again, Bucky wasn’t hiding anything from him, the way McKenzie, Hammond, and Steve were hiding shit for each other.

“Cap, put it on autopilot and come help me find wrinkles on Namor’s face,” Hammond urged.

Steve snorted and shook his head, though he did set up the autopilot system and made his way to the bedroom Hammond and McKenzie had already made of the living quarters.

“You know it’s only gonna be a ten hour flight,” he said as he sat in a nest of Stark and military issued pillows and blankets.

“Oh my God, do you know how long in the air that is?” Hammond lamented.

McKenzie scoffed at the theatrics but Steve didn’t miss how he was wrapped in a blanket that Steve knew had cooling technology and a slick feel to it. Stark had created it especially for the aquatic man.

Steve leaned back and before he could rebuke anything the other two were doing, he was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

Ten hours later, a familiar voice was teasing Steve over his radio. “Well, well, well, Mr. America. You’re riding in style now, aren’t you?”

Steve pretended like his heart didn’t leap in his chest as he pulled the radio close. “Agent Britain, always good to know you’ve got my back.” He let the sound of her laugh wash over him. “It’s been too long, Pegs,” he sighed.

Peggy sighed too and Steve imagined her sitting at a chair and nodding with him. “It has, Steve. You’re clear for authorized landing when you touch down. We can catch up over dinner.”

“Is that Carter?” Hammond called, running through the helicarrier to get close to the radio. “Hi, ma’am! I kept him in one piece ‘cause Fury said you’d be around. I had to charm him to come, just for you.”

“No he didn’t. I was ready to go before he was,” Steve laughed, pushing Hammond away from his face.

“Hello, Jim. I hope you’re doing well. I’m excited to hear what Stark’s been doing with you recently,” Peggy said with an amused tone.

“Ha. More like what I’m teaching Stark about being a hero.”

“Ah, is that what your relationship is?” Peggy laughed.

“Hell yeah, have you ever seen that guy do anything heroic?”

“Be nice, Hammond. An android that burst into flame doesn’t exactly sound like the best kind of hero out there either.”

“Go away, Hammond,” Steve said, pushing him out of the cockpit and retaking control of the helicarrier. “Gonna put this bird down, Pegs. See you in a few.”

“I’ll be waiting, Captain Rogers.”

Steve turned off the radio and let out a breath before navigating the plane down to the runway and slowing it to a stop. McKenzie was off the plane before the door was even fully lowered for him. He didn’t bother to say where he was going, but Steve could guess it was to find the largest tub in the compound.

Hammond trotted next to Steve amiably, jostling their shoulders and chattering about Peggy and Fury and some dumb argument he’d roped McKenzie into. (“Hey, Steve, you’re old enough to have an opinion. Which are better: dinosaurs or robots?” “We’ve literally existed for the same time span, Hammond.”)

It wasn’t until they came into the Shield headquarters that Hammond fell, well, not silent, but quieter. Even though it was only a temporary hub, the whole place was decked out and felt substantial. Steve knew from experience that it could be destroyed in minutes at a moment’s notice, but he still felt like he was in New York.

Across the entry foyer, Peggy stood in Marine fatigues and a t-shirt. She smiled when she saw Steve and he crossed the last dozen feet to her quickly, sweeping her into a hug.

“Oh, God, I’ve missed you,” he laughed into her hair as she squeezed her arms around his neck.

“I’ve missed you too, Steve,” she answered softly. When he set her down again, she brought a hand up to his cheek. “You look so much healthier. Happier. That man you have at home is helping you a lot.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. It wasn’t until Hammond’s wolf-whistling continued that he broke out of it to shove the android away. “He’s great, Pegs. You need to come home with me after this and you can meet him. He’s due back in less than a month. He’s almost done.”

“We’ll have to see how this pans out and what my schedule is going to look like after this,” Peggy said with that smile Steve had missed so much.

Out of everything to do with Shield, Peggy Carter was going to be the reason he joined up again, took on a larger role. And that had looked more than a little tempting earlier in the year, but then he’d met Bucky, who pulled at his heart even more than Peggy. There was an entire uphill battle he had to go through before he could accept an offer to join Shield, now. And that was fine by him. As it was, this alone was giving him nerves about making it home before Bucky.

“Fury will meet with you when the conference he’s on ends in a few minutes. For now, let me take you and Hammond to your rooms. McKenzie will be in the same unit, but he blew by everyone on his own, so you may have to show him after dinner.”

“Ha, you assume Namor is gonna eat dinner in the mess hall with a bunch of surface spies and soldiers. That’s not happening, Carter, you know that,” Hammond scoffed, adjusting his bag over his shoulder as he followed after Peggy with Steve.

“We have a pool set up for him. I’m sure that’s where he’ll be for a while,” Peggy said with a nod.

She lead them to their bedrooms and rubbed Steve’s arm. “Don't’ forget dinner tonight,” she said with a smile.

“Hey, no, if I’ve gotta eat in the mess hall, so does he,” Hammond objected, though it wasn’t serious. More like a kid brother bothering his older brother before a date.

“I’ll eat in the mess hall with you. I don’t mind letting Steve tell you what’s been happening in his life recently.”

Steve pushed her shoulder gently before pulling her into a hug. “Missed you, Pegs. I’m glad you’re out here with us.”

“And we’re very glad to have you, Captain,” she answered, rubbing his back.

“See you soon, Pegs.”

“Bye, Carter!”

“Bye, boys,” she finished, giving them a, only half sarcastic, wave.

~

Steve did not miss dinner in the mess hall.

“You mean you’re gettin’ dicked down by someone?” Hammond asked around a mouthful of mashed potatoes that honestly had seen better days.

“Will you keep quiet,” Peggy snapped, swatting at his arm with a plastic spork.

“I just mean… Hey, is that why you’re called Peggy?” he asked with a lavacious grin.

Peggy swatted him again. “Bucky sounds wonderful,” she told Steve. “I’m really glad you found someone.”

“He woulda had you,” Hammond said.

“Jim!”

“Neither Steve nor I were the same people after a sixty year split. When I received a reduced version of the serum, they expected me to pick up where he’d left off. It was more responsibility than they’d ever granted me. I grew into who I wanted to be, but also who others wanted me to be.”

“And I came back from the dead,” Steve said with a shrug. “It takes a toll on you. Besides.” He shrugged again. “When I heard fellas could be with fellas… I loved Peggy. I _love_ Peggy. But...she wasn’t my true desire.”

Peggy smiled at him, though it was a little sad, a little nostalgic, a little curious.

“Well, I’m programmed, so I can’t sympathize with any of this,” Hammond said, always ready to break the moment.

“Liar,” Peggy and Steve said at the same time.

“You chased skirt as bad as anyone way back when,” Steve said.

Hammond shrugged and grinned. “Alright, you caught me. Dad made me too human.”

“I think you’re great, buddy,” Steve assured, wrapping his arm around Hammond’s shoulders and jostling him.

“He must be lying,” McKenzie said, appearing suddenly. He gave a disinterested stare at the food and didn’t sit. He was wearing the full body suit, arms crossed over his chest. His hair was still wet, dripping onto the suit and disappearing instantly.

“Captain, do we have ship out orders?” he asked, looking at Steve with just as much disinterest.

“Mac, we just sat down for the first time,” Hammond whined.

“Not yet. We’re still receiving intel,” Steve answered.

“We’re still watching the military team the soldier was assigned to,” Peggy explained.

McKenzie scoffed and turned. “Robot, show me the room,” he said.

“Android,” Jim corrected, though he was eagerly jumping up to trot after McKenzie.

“I don’t get those two,” Peggy mused as she and Steve watched them walk away.

“Who does?” Steve asked with a shake of his head. But he thought he might. They were the most different people walking around at any given time. Of course they gravitated towards each other. They were two non-humans surrounded by billions of humans and one one like them.

“Keep them ready to fly out. You’ll be our first physical surveillance. Give us just a few days.”

Steve nodded and pushed around apple slices. “It’s really good to see you, Peggy.”

“Familiar faces can be nice while your life is changing, even if it’s changing for the better.”

Steve smiled at her and nodded slightly. “That’s exactly it, I think. And maybe I was looking for your permission.”

“Steven Grant, you always have my permission to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, you know that.” She reached across the table and took Steve’s hand. “I will always love you. Love yourself too.”

Steve took a deep breath. “You know, I think I’m getting there, Pegs. This is definitely a step in the right direction.”

Peggy nodded and looked at her food. “Well, now that Hammond has gone to his room, would you like to get real food? I have the most delicious leftover kebabs in my office,” she offered.

Steve grinned, real and honest, before nodding. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

 

*  * *

 

True to form, it took five days before Shield let Steve, Hammond, and McKenzie begin to survey the area. Supposedly movement had been at a standstill recently and they were just canvassing, looking for activity and any clue as to where the invasion had come from. They started a mile from the team’s barracks, since transmissions suggested that’s how far out hostiles were, and worked their way in. Other than a few other empty barracks and hidey-holes, the area was as clear as the drones picked up. Hell, Steve was pretty sure most of the structures they investigated were US based.

When Steve walked back out of a small shack that had been used for communication at some point he assumed, he was met with gun fire from above. His shield was raised before the sound even really registered in his ears, and he was ducking and rolling back into the shelter of the building.

“Hammond, what the hell is shooting at me?” he demanded.

Hammond hesitated on the other side of the line and McKenzie let out a frustrated and colorful string of words. A few seconds later, the fire had ceased and then a few seconds after that, McKenzie and Hammond were marching two figures towards Steve as he unfolded himself from under the shield. Their faces were hidden with red goggles and red breathing masks covered in sand and dust. There was a mechanical pack on their backs, humming slightly.

“Men with wings, Captain. Earth continues to surprise and amaze,” McKenzie reported drily. He shoved the guy forward and the one Hammond was holding struggled violently.

“Don’t fucking touch him like that!” the man Hammond was holding spat before cursing and looking at Hammond’s hands. Steve assumed Hammond had burned him lightly. He was more concerned with placing the voice under the protective breathing mask.

The soldier in front of him put two and two together at the same time that Steve did and they stepped forward to grab each other at the same time.

“Sam! What the hell are you doing out here?” Steve asked, reaching up to pull his goggles off as Sam worked on the breathing mask.

“I could ask you the same thing, man. I’m fucking deployed. What’s your excuse?” he asked, grinning and touching Steve’s face and shoulders like he still didn’t believe he was there.

Hammond must have let go of Riley, or maybe he fought his way free, because he was suddenly next to Sam, reaching for the helmet on Steve’s head. “What the hell man? You’re what? A fucking superhero?” he asked.

Steve pulled the cowl away and shook sand and sweat from his hair. “Uh, yeah, you could say that.”

“Who are your freaky friends?” Riley asked, jerking his head over his shoulder with a scowl.

“Uh, guys, meet Namor McKenzie, the submariner, prince of Atlantis,” Steve said, gesturing.

“Prince of Atlantis?” Sam asked dubiously. “Dude flies in the sky and he’s the prince of Atlantis?”

“I wouldn’t expect a human to be able to comprehend multiplicity of talents,” McKenzie scoffed.

“He’s a mutant,” Hammond added with a smirk. “So he’s not even totally Atlantean. He took the throne by force.”

“I did not! My mother--”

“Enough!” Steve interrupted. “This is Jim Hammond. An android who...flies,” he decided. He caught the stare Hammond gave him but ignored it. The last thing he wanted to do was overload Sam and Riley with the absolute chaos that was his professional life.

“You’re like...fucking superheroes? Like that Stark gimmick?” Riley asked dubiously. “How did you get mixed up in all of that?” he asked, looking to Steve.

Steve met Sam’s eyes and could already tell Sam was calculating everything that had been said and done so far. Steve waited for Sam’s face to smooth over before Steve looked away. He didn’t know why he felt ashamed. Maybe because Riley and Sam already had a distaste for superheroes, particularly Stark, and Stark and his father were a majority of the reason that Steve was a superhero to begin with. Maybe it was because he knew he’d been caught in a lie. Sam and Riley were as close to family as he had in this century. Hammond and McKenzie were certainly still family, brothers in arms that Steve would always put his life on the line for, but they were rarely around, had their own lives, real families, while Steve was stuck in a new century and a world that had moved on. Namor was more than famous in Atlantis. He was royalty, a warrior known all across the kingdom. Hammond had all of Shield wrapped around his pinky. Steve waited in a small apartment with his dog to be called out to put his neck on the line. Sam and Riley put love back in his life. And he’d been lying to them as long as he’d known them and now he was being found out. It hurt more than he was willing to put into words.

“I ain’t rattin’ you out. You gotta say the words yourself,” Sam said, sounding as diplomatic as ever, but Steve knew him well enough to hear the sharp edge to his words.

“I’ve got...a serum. A super soldier serum. It makes me faster, stronger, ages me slower. I’ve been fighting since World War II,” Steve admitted. His cheeks heated up with a fierce burn and he couldn’t meet Riley’s eyes, not with the way he’d gone stiff at Steve’s words.

“Um. Guys, this is Sam Wilson and Riley Wiatrek. U.S. Air Force. Pararescue. They’re on a team with…” Steve cut off suddenly when he realized McKenzie and Hammond didn’t know who Bucky was, or what he meant to Steve. “They’re on a special ops team like the one we're helping.” Suddenly Steve turned to Sam and Riley. “Are you two out here to find the missing soldier? Wait, is Bucky with you?”

Sam looked pained and glanced at Riley. “Steve, did no one tell you who you're looking for?”

“What? What does that mean?” Steve asked. Suddenly, his heart kicked up in his chest and he so hoped that where he thought this conversation was going was just wrong. He’d never wanted to be so wrong in his life.

Riley pulled Steve close suddenly, thick arms going around Steve’s shoulders and that was enough to confirm it for Steve. If it was bad enough for Riley to forget the superhero thing, it was too bad to say aloud.

“Oh, God, please, no,” he whimpered softly. He went lax against Riley and Sam quickly moved to his other side to support him too. “It’s not your team. It wasn’t your team,” he begged softly.

Hammond was suddenly there too, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist and warming him up. “What’s wrong, Cap? What’s happening?”

Steve couldn’t find words, but it was okay because Sam picked up the slack. “We should go back to the base. We don’t need to be outside. And definitely not outside here. We’re camped out not too far. Barton will have an ATV pretty close.”

Hammond looked between Steve and Sam and then glanced at McKenzie, who was as calculating as ever. Steve felt his legs go out and he must not have been breathing because then he was blacking out.

 

*  * *

 

Sam Wilson didn’t think he had a particularly crazy life. Sure, the wings were wild and keeping Riley close at hand was bound to create chaos, but he was happy and he was healing and he had a job he loved and a man he loved and that seemed like a normal life for him. His life had its lows and its highs just like everyone else. His parents dying, super low. Meeting Riley, definite high. And Steve Rogers had been a high in his life for a while. They just clicked in such a brotherly way, that Sam had never had growing up.

Right now, Sam accepted that Steve was unconscious in a military issue cot in the middle of the desert, but he was such a low point of Sam’s life that he was ready to strangle the man. Maybe it was harsh, unfair. Steve was probably in a whole lot more pain than Sam was. Sam knew, logically, he was just a little hurt, confused. He even knew he wasn’t betrayed. Not in the way Riley was. Sam didn’t know the extent of Riley’s beef with Stark. It began almost immediately upon getting the wings and Riley was tight lipped about the whole thing.

This wasn’t about superheroes. This was about Steve crashing on his couch after the first week they met. This was about splitting grocery bills and gym times. This was about telling Steve shit he didn’t even tell Riley. And Steve couldn’t mention any of this shit? Maybe if it was something small. Maybe if the serum hadn’t taken, or he wasn’t still taking missions. But Steve had an entire half of his life that he had never told Sam about. And it hurt.

And it hurt to see Steve sprawled over a bed where the thing with wings on his legs threw him down. Steve’s breathing was still frantic, even in unconsciousness. Sam barely had any warning, then, when Steve shot up in bed, gasping in air and grasping at the sheets. Sam didn’t let himself react, other than reaching out a steadying hand.

Steve wasn’t staring at anything in particular and it was a dangerous look that Sam knew too well. He grabbed Steve’s hand and forced his gaze to Sam’s face. “Hey. Remember what happened? Where you are?” he asked.

“It’s Bucky. Bucky’s missing isn’t he?”

Sam worked his jaw and looked away before nodding shortly. “Yeah. It’s Bucky. One minute he was there, talking in our ears, and then...he never showed up to Castle’s side.”

“Oh, God,” Steve whimpered, dropping his face into his hands. Sam’s heart squeezed at the image and he tried to tamp it down, at least a little bit. Just enough to get through this conversation. Then he could crawl against Steve’s chest and mourn with him. It wasn’t productive and it wasted time, but he was hurting too. Barnes was his friend too.

“Bucky was being the hero. He went back for Wilson—different Wilson—and got him out. But Wilson and Logan went one way while Bucky went the other, trying to help Castle. He never made it. We’re trying to put it all together, but these bastards were good. Like they knew everywhere we’d be and wouldn’t be. Riley and I weren’t near the barracks. The cameras didn’t pick up anything.”

Steve shook head again and lifted his face to look at Sam. “He was the only one? God, how could he be the only person on a team like this to get hurt?”

“No. We lost another guy. He left just before the explosions. We haven’t seen him since. They’re worried he walked right into a trap.” Something must have passed over Steve’s face because Sam’s darkened too and he scowled slightly. “I don’t buy it either. It’s convenient. And this guy… There’s something off about him. Bucky saw it too.”

“What? Who is it? They didn’t tell us anything other than location and extraction,” Steve said quickly.

“His name’s Billy Ruso. He’s Castle’s best friend. They’re like brothers. Castle’s in a bad place right now.”

“What are you doing with him?” Steve had never met Castle, but he heard enough from Bucky to have a pretty decent picture of the guy and what he was capable of.

“He’s at a second location, closer to where Russo’s phone went offline.” At Steve’s confused look, he continued. “We can send out a call or so a week, encrypted, short. It kept us sane. Buck was storing all his up to call you when we headed home.”

Steve’s cheeks blazed and he had to bite his lip to keep his chin from quivering. He swung his legs over the bed and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Any word on Russo?”

“Not yet. It’s like he disappeared. No sign of aircraft, ATVs, foot soldiers, nothing. Castle’s losing his mind over there. They want to ship him home.”

Steve made a non-committal noise. Billy Russo and Castle were not his main concern right then. He looked up as the door to the office they’d commandeered was opened.

“Hey, Cap. Good to see you up,” Hammond greeted. He turned his attention to Sam. “Riley and I were gonna fly a perimeter. That good?” he asked.

“He don’t want to fly it, does he?” Sam asked without pausing much.

“No. He figured you were more likely to say no to me than to him,” Hammond agreed.

“Send his ass up. I had to do it last time. He can keep his end up.”

Hammond grinned broadly at Sam and ducked back out of the room.

“Your hero is growing on me. The other one? Not so much.”

Steve snorted and nodded. “That’s the general consensus with them. No one likes McKenzie.” He evened a look at Sam then. “You said you were a pilot.”

“I never said pilot,” Sam defended quickly.

“You are one step off of being a superhero. You are the War Machine to Iron Man.”

“I fight for the army. I save soldiers. I’m not one of Stark’s ego boosters.”

“You think that’s what I am?”

“I think a bunch of mutant kids wind up dead every year because of some catastrophe with his program.”

Steve sighed. “He’s trying. He tries so hard with everything and everyone’s shitting on him all the time.”

“He tries and he fails, is why,” Sam scoffed.

“He succeeds more than he fails. I don’t get it. Sam, you don’t even know him.”

“God, this is wild,” Sam sighed. Paradigm shifting, his play-writing professor would have said. And he’d thought life was crazy when he had to take a  _play-writing_ class in school. Now there were superheroes who’d drooled on his couch. “Explain it to me. Explain your thing. These idiots.”

“Hammond’s an android that bursts into flame. I don’t know. I didn’t make him.”

Sam blinked dumbly for a while. He was rarely struck mute but he really had no idea how to deal with this. The wings had been a shock, but a cool one. As soon as him and Riley had seen them, they’d tripped over each other to grab a pair. Sam would not have gone running towards an android that exploded.

“How do you even find a guy like that?” Sam finally asked. It was the only thing he could think to ask that didn’t involve incoherent noises. Had he just sent his best guy up in the sky with something that exploded?

“We’re part of a team. Like yours. Just...we’re all super powered,” Steve admitted in a breath.

“You’re not super powered, Steve,” Sam interrupted. “You’re the asshole who beats me when we run every morning. You’re a normal guy who can’t cook eggs. You’re energetic and funny and smart and so, so, so honorable that it’s unbelievable, but those aren’t super powers. You’re just a guy. We’ve known each other for years,” Sam said, voice desperate and taking on a whine.

“I’m a super soldier. I was… I got this serum back when I enlisted. It made me big. Grew my muscles, my speed, my stamina. And...I enlisted in 1941. Five times actually. I was denied four times.”

“That sounds about right,” Sam agreed before covering his face with his hands. “God, Steve, you know this sounds crazy, right?”

“I know, Sam, I know. But I came out here to do what you do. To save a soldier. And now I know that that soldier is the one I love most in the whole world. You’ve got to know that I don’t care about the rest of this right now. Come on, man. You’ve got to know.”

“Yeah, Steve. I know. Tell us what we need to do.” Sam was so going to regret this.

“Who all is here right now? In this compound?”

“Me, Riley, Barton, and you three. It’s Romanov, Castle, Logan, and Rumlow at the other one.”

“Okay,” Steve said, nodding. “We’ll have to get a director over there. You don’t have any command out here?”

“Just Barnes. Castle was promoted to mission commander when Barnes went MIA, but the military hasn’t sent anyone out yet.”

It felt wrong. Felt like this was all a trap. But Steve pushed through. “We’ll have to send Fury over. We can’t have that compound without leadership. We’ll send Hammond over too.”

“Oh, man, you gotta send him away? Why not the fish?”

“He’s Atlantean,” Steve corrected. It was muscle memory after years of working with McKenzie and hearing him snidely correct people. “And you put a lot of volatile characters in that compound. You don’t need another. Hammond’s good at getting people to like him and listen to him.”

“That’s true,” Sam said. “That’s why I want him here.”

Steve made a noise in the back of his throat, an acknowledgement and a dismissal. “We’ll need surveillance scouts. I want to see the area at least once. I assume Shield brought the ATVs?”

“We have two. They have the rest,” Sam confirmed.

“I’ll need to ask for one. Will you and Riley fly while I’m out? I like having your eyes in the sky.”

“Always on your six, Rogers,” Sam promised with a grin. “God, man, I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve been… Barnes disappearing has fucked a lot of us up. We haven’t found a body, haven’t gotten any threats or ransoms or anything. It’s fucked up. And Barnes doesn’t deserve it. It just...feels like fate, like a stroke of good luck that you’re here with us,” he said with a shrug. “If anyone can find him, it’ll be you. He’ll come back to you.”

Steve gave a pained smile. “I hope you’re right, pal. I’m gonna go talk to Carter about getting an ATV.”

“Hey...if you can’t get one, I’ll carry you out. On the wings.”

Steve gave a lazy salute and stood up. “I’ll let you know, Sam. Thank you. You should rest. Or maybe get to know Carter and Fury. While they’re here, you’ll end up working with them a lot. Director Carter, Commander Fury,” he explained.

Sam shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I’m still USAF, not part of Shield and damn sure no superhero.”

“That’s fair, Sam. Be good to Riley for me. I might not see him much.”

“Just don’t send him away from me.”

“Promise, Sam. I trust the two of you together more than apart.”

Sam grinned and Steve managed to smile back, slowly, softly.

“We’ll get him, Steve.”

“I hope you’re right, Sam. I can’t lose him.”

“I know you can’t.”

Steve nodded and ducked out of the room.

 

*  * *

 

It took a week to convince Carter to let him go out on a surveillance search. They rigged him with cameras and added a tracker to his jacket so they could keep him in their sights.

“We’re gonna go to the barracks,” Steve told Sam as he got ready to take a sand bike out. He made sure his cowl was secure before nodding at Sam and watching him and Riley take off into the air.

HQ was a good five miles from the barrack site. There was a civilian village between the two, but Steve got through with no problem. The barracks were easy to find after that. It looked like the only thing standing for miles. And it was barely standing.

Other than being exploded, it seemed standard. Steve hadn’t spent much time in modern barracks but between Sam and Bucky, he had an idea. Steve stopped the bike and walked the last dozen meters to the barracks. It was still, ash being swayed by the wind, but no visible tracks or tampering. He stepped inside and pulled a thin material mask over his nose and mouth. The ash was so fine, it still got through. The fire had burned a long time. Which meant no one on the team had bothered to come put it out. But it also meant whoever bombed it didn’t care to cover their tracks and the village three miles the other way was too scared to try to help.

He walked between the collapsed frames of bed and couldn’t help but wonder which one was Bucky’s. He didn’t have to wonder for long when a glint caught his eye and he bent to dig through some ash of a mattress until he could pull a pair of dog tags out. He had to turn and vomit when he read Bucky’s name on them.

Suddenly, frantically, he shoved his hands through the rest of the ash and sand, looking for anything substantial that he could bring back to Bucky. Because he was going to find him. He was definitely going to fucking find him. He had to.

His fingers closed around something and he pulled it free. It was half of a book, the rest burnt and flaking away even as he just moved it closer to his face. He opened it and ran his fingers over the pen notations on the upper margins.

 _Hell yeah_ , he’d written, the description of a spaceship circled three times. _Star Trek s4e3_ , he wrote next to a name. _Show Steve this,_ he said with a whole paragraph highlighted. Steve couldn’t bring himself to read it. He shoved the book in one of the utility pockets and stood again.

“Hey, Rogers, there’s a figure approaching. Do you want us to engage?” Riley asked in the comms.

“Negative, Wiatrek. Stay where you are, monitor. It maybe a civilian coming to talk to us. I’ll engage,” he said. He dusted himself off and wiped away the tears and vomit on his face.

“Uh...not an option, Steve,” Sam said. Gun fire started immediately after his words. “We’ve got company. It looks like Romanov joined our party and there’s hostiles on her. Swarming in like they did with the bombs.”

“There aren’t that many. We can handle them,” Riley assured.

“Do not engage the walking one. Focus on the fight. I’ll see what the solo one is about.”

When he stepped outside, he’d forgotten how bright it could be. He had to squint to see what Riley was talking about. Then, he had to blink several times. Surely this was just a mirage in the heat. Despite the fighting behind him that Natasha and Sam and Riley were quickly containing on their own, there was a lone figure dressed in black stalking his way through the sand. He didn’t react to the gunshots or the shouting. He was locked on Steve, picking up speed as Steve started towards him too.

They hit at full speed. The only reason Steve wasn’t knocked to his ass was because the shield absorbed most of the impact. He shoved the man away from him and stumbled back a few steps. The other soldier had a knife flipping between his fingers but that was basically the only thing Steve could see about him. He was wearing thick protective goggles and a filtration mask over the rest of his face. His hair was scraggly, as if it were growing out without much care, but it was still short enough that it barely hit his eyebrows. He was thin, but strong. Like fat had melted off his skin and left only the muscle behind. He rolled his shoulders back, and only one arm really moved. The other hung by his side limply.

“Stand down, sir. I’m a member of the United States military. We’re running a search and rescue operation. You are not my main concern right now,” Steve tried to reason.

The guy wasn’t having it. He lunged at Steve again, aiming so low that Steve almost tripped over the shield as he tried to save his legs and move forward at the same time. He shoved the shield into the guy’s arm, trying to get him to drop the weapon, but the man dodged him quickly, actually managing to get a foot on the shield and flip over backwards instead. It sent Steve stumbling back another few steps and by the time he got his feet under him again, the man in black was running at him again.

Steve braced the shield against his shoulder and ran at the guy too, crashing into him and sending them both sprawling through the sand. Suddenly, he was a sixteen year old kid in Brooklyn again, grabbing sand and flinging it at the opponent just to grab any upperhand. Well oiled machine that the man was, he didn’t panic about the sand, as if he knew his goggles were seal-proof. He stood up and shook the sand from his hair. Steve and he circled each other for a moment, staring each other down. There was an entire desert around them. They could stay as far away from each other as possible but there’d be no escape. Nothing that ended with survival anyway.

The guy rolled his shoulders back again and it picked at the back of Steve’s brain, reminded him of something that would not keep him alive in this situation so his strategically beautiful mind wouldn’t let him access it. He shoved the thoughts aside and looked for anything that would give him an upper hand.

“How’s that hostile, Rogers?” Sam asked in the comm. The guy cocked his head, as if reacting to the words. Steve’s eyes narrowed, brow furrowed.

“Dealing with it,” Steve answered. He glanced at the sky, looking for the wings but  not finding them. When he looked back at the opponent, he was met with a gun flash that he was only barely avoiding, rolling away on the shield. He came up hard on a tank that was stuck in the sand. It jarred his brains, but there were no holes in his body and he was counting it as a win. He scrambled to the other side of the tank before beginning to climb it. By the time he breached the top, the other soldier was there too. He was a picture of composure and, for a moment, Steve thought he must be a robot.

The soldier swung out at Steve’s head, sloppy and uncoordinated and wild. Steve easily blocked it with the shield but suddenly there was a stinging in his side and he realized the guy had swiped the blade over Steve’s side, exposed with the shield raised high. Steve grit his teeth and smashed the shield into the soldier’s head, knocking it to the side before he slammed the edge into the guy’s shoulder.

He only meant to make the soldier drop whatever was in his hand, or at least retreat. Instead, the shield sank into the man’s shoulder, inches down into it like there was no bone and muscle and tendon in the way. Steve was still staring as the soldier shouted, feral and hurt, and ripped the shield away. Half of the meat of his arm went with it.

“Rogers, we’re going,” Natasha said in the comms. “Expect Wilson in five, four, three…”

Steve dove away as the man leapt at him again, even with half his arm missing. It was barely bleeding and the man had hardly reacted. Steve didn’t understand. He snagged the shield and jumped to his feet in case another attack was coming.

If it was, Steve wouldn’t know. Suddenly, Sam had him around the waist, pulling him into the sky and away from the soldier. An explosion sounded further back, where Natasha and Sam had been fighting. Below them, the hostile stared up at the pair. A hand slowly went to his shoulder. And then Sam had them out of eyeline.

 

*  * *

 

“I don’t know what it was, Peg. If I did, I’d give you more information,” Steve sighed, running his hand down the side of his face. Peggy’s perfume smelt so good after the heat of battle and the lingering stench of the other soldier that it was actually making his head hurt.

“A lone soldier takes you on with a pocket knife?” Peggy clarified once more. She stood behind her desk. There was a chair but Steve had never seen her use it back home, and certainly not out here. “And not that he wins, but he at least holds his own. Against you. With a pocket knife. And a bad arm.”

“It wasn’t just a bad arm. It was… God, it was disgusting. I hit it and the shield went through it like wet sand. Like a burnt out log.” Steve shuddered as the memory racked its way through his mind again. “I don’t think he was human.”

“All the cameras picked up a life form. It was warm. It had a pulse. You fought a man, Steve.”

“Then it was a man half dead,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“We need to find him again. A man like that doesn’t sound like he has much say in the matter.”

“For what reason, Peggy? He was trying to kill me. He would have if I hadn’t disarmed him,” Steve objected. “He sure as hell shot like he wanted to be there.”

Peggy shook her head. “We don't know what Hydra’s doing. How many times have we seen them send prisoners out first, just to tell the waters, to test us?” she asked.

Steve cringed and nodded. He’d knocked out more than one non-consenting-combatant. It was worse with the others, who didn’t bother to try nonlethal methods first.

“I want to see this man. And if he’s as deadly as you say, he may be valuable to other areas of Shield.”

Steve glanced up then, brow furrowing. “Are you looking for someone specific out here?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers, we’re looking for James Barnes,” Peggy answered with a clip.

Steve frowned and stood up, reaching for Peggy’s arms to hold her closer. Intimate, not intimidating. A callback to, if World War II could be considered it, easier times. “Pegs. Are you running a second operation out here?”

Peggy glanced towards the door and sighed before patting Steve’s chest. “We have reason to believe a high level Shield contact is working with Hydra. He usually stays in New York but he disappeared several weeks ago. We thought he may be here.” At Steve’s frustrated look as he let go of her, she added quickly, “But Major Barnes is our first concern!”

“Not if you want me wasting time with this ghost in the sand!” Steve objected.

Peggy’s face sifted and now she reached out for Steve’s arm. “I know how much Barnes means to you. But he may not be the only victim out here. We did not create this organization to save those we love. We created it to save everyone we could.”

“I know that, Peggy. And I’ve been trying to do that as long as I could, but right now, this is a little more personal for me.”

“Didn’t I let you put that plane in the ice? Didn’t we both sacrifice everything before?”

“You didn’t let me do anything. You were stuck in that HQ hundreds of miles away.” Steve sat down and pressed his hands over his face. “I just feel like we’re chasing our tails. There hasn’t been a single lead yet. How can we have two highly trained teams out here working on it and there’s not a sign of him?”

Peggy sat beside him and reached for his hand. “Steve… Have you considered the possibility that—“

“Don’t, Peggy. Don't you say that to me,” Steve warned roughly.

Peggy pressed her lips into a flat line. “Well, he wouldn’t want you sitting around moping. If we find the man you were fighting, maybe he'll have more information about Barnes, if we can capture him alive. Tell me who you want on a solo team, just for a few days of searching.”

Steve looked up at her and then rubbed his face again. “It can’t be anyone trigger happy. Not Romanov. Not Castle. Damn sure not Rumlow. Preferably not McKenzie. It should be me, Sam, Riley, for sure. I want eyes in the air. I guess...Logan on the ground with me. He can hold his own in a fight.

“But, Pegs, you promise me you send out the trigger happy shits as soon as it looks rough. That guy could pack a punch and he didn’t go down easy. The only reason I got out last time was because Sam grabbed me.”

Peggy nodded and rubbed Steve’s shoulder. “We’ll start surveillance. Be ready to get called out. Gather your team.”

Steve stood and let out a breath. Imminent action and a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. Felt like he was back in England all over again. He left Peggy with a kiss on her cheek and headed out to find Sam and Riley and have someone radio over for Logan. It left the second location down a great soldier, but he couldn’t risk being alone on the ground with this one. Maybe he could’ve taken McKenzie but McKenzie was also hotheaded in battle and he tended not to keep his feet on the ground. Hammond as, by far, the most hotheaded of the group. Logan was too apathetic to be too enthusiastic about something that didn’t concern him. He was levelheaded and older and more experienced. Hell, as Steve got to know the team, he was surprised Bucky and Castle had been in command positions and not Logan.

Maybe he was about to find out.

~

It only took Peggy’s team a week to find the man again. A dark dot in an endless expanse of sand, heading straight for a research lab, off the books and not all that innocent, Steve would guess. Sam and Riley had them touching down within fifteen minutes. It was too close to the lab for Steve’s liking, but it had been evacuated when the team first saw the lone soldier.

Logan ran sidelong to veer off and detour in front of the soldier, putting himself between the soldier and the lab. Which meant Steve had to distract him.

“Sir, again, you’re interrupted Official United States Military—” Whatever the rest of the warning was going to be was knocked out of him when the soldier suddenly turned and opened fire. Steve crumbled into a ball behind the shield, a movement so familiar he didn’t even realize he’d done it until he heard the bullets ricocheting off the shield. Judging by the increasing speed of which they were doing so, the soldier was advancing on him. His shots were getting more precise too, aiming for the tuft of hair that stuck out above the shield, for the bit of shoulder Steve couldn't draw back.

When the shots suddenly stopped and a shadow clouded over Steve, he didn’t hesitate to slam the shield upwards, knocking the guy back and then hitting him again as he stumbled back, holding the breathing mask to his face. Steve could see Logan a few dozen meters off, but the soldier was no longer interested in the lab and probably hadn’t even seen Logan.

“Rogers, you want me to knock his ass out?” Riley asked in the comm.

“Negative. We’ll try to get him down conscious. No telling what he’s hopped up on,” Steve answered. “Your stun dart may put him into overdrive.”

“Or cardiac arrest,” Sam added and Steve could hear the grimace in his voice.

“Well, you tell us what you need and we’ll be there.”

Steve couldn’t answer as the figure approached again, hard mask left behind with only the material mask Steve had grown accustomed to with the soldiers on base. To keep out sand and keep cameras from picking up what they were saying. It was a whole different kind of war. He readied himself for another attack, but didn’t expect the man to just grab the shield and flip Steve over with it like a child’s play thing. Steve hit the ground hard and then quickly rolled out of the way as the soldier brought his foot down right where Steve’s head had been moments before. The soldier did manage to get his weight on the shield and Steve had to let it go in favor of standing up and jumping out of the way again as the soldier opened fire.

There was a lag to his movements as he shifted his weapons from holster to hand. He seemed like the kind of person who was used to having a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Ready for any attack. But his left arm still hung as limp and still as the first time Steve had seen him.

“Sam, come down. Need hand to hand back up,” he said quickly. It turned out to be a mistake as the soldier cocked his head, staring at Steve. At his mouth, Steve realized. The soldier looked skyward, tracking Sam’s fast and rough landing and then finding Riley still in the sky, watching Sam’s six and keeping an eye on Logan.Not looking at them. With a near nonchalance, the soldier aimed a rifle at Riley’s pack and fired.

Steve could see Sam watching the projectile the whole way to its target.

“Riley!” Sam shouted, something desperate and broken, leaping up before the thrust boosters could even fire on his pack. The wings opened and Sam caught Riley only ten feet from the ground, yanking on his arm and jerking Riley like a rag doll. They both finished the tumble to the ground in a cloud of sand.

Steve couldn’t keep watching because the soldier was tackling him down, raining blows with his own good arm. Despite the almost unendurable explosion of pain and the sheer mass of their two bodies, Steve felt like he was eleven again and fighting off bullies in back alleys.

“Get off!” he shouted like he had so often before, but now he could follow through, flipping them over and kicking the man away from him. He stumbled back with the sudden loss of weight and almost fell on his shield. He grabbed it in time to volley another spray of bullets. This time, he advanced on the other man, cutting down the distance between them until he could tackle the man down himself. He grabbed the gun from the man’s hand and threw it as far as he could, flung clear across the dunes.

It barely slowed the soldier down. He just grabbed his knife and tried to drive it into Steve’s side. Luckily, he caught the shield instead and Steve was able to jump back. When the man got his feet as well, Logan was suddenly there, on his back, thick arm around his neck in a chokehold. The soldier struggled against Logan, sinking the knife into his forearm and trying to buck him off, but Logan hung on, enough so that the breathing mask fell off the soldier’s face and then the goggles went with them.

Finally, the soldier got an elbow hard enough into Logan’s ribs to drop the man, pulling his blade free before Logan could draw his arm back. But Steve didn’t give a shit about any of that. He’d felt his heart stop. He wasn’t sure if it had started again. He stared at the soldier as the other man flipped his hair out of his face, turning to stare at Steve in turn.

“Bucky?” Steve coughed out.

The soldier frowned and Steve saw the recognition pass over his face before a stone cold facade came back. “Who the hell is Bucky?” he asked, raising a handgun to shoot again. But Sam was flying in, kicking the man out of frame and then collapsed down on the ground. He brought an air of burnt metal with him and Steve assumed it was the jet packs. He ran forward to grab Sam, worried he was injured, that something had happened with Riley and hurt Sam too, but Sam was already struggling to his feet, raising a gun that Steve had to wrestle out of his hands.

Sam was crying. Sobbing, really, hand shaking so badly it was no problems to get the gun free. “Sam, Sam, no, don’t. It’s Bucky. It’s—” Steve turned to look at the soldier, but there was no one there. He stumbled forward, over the nearest dune. There was no body there, nothing in the sand. He fell to his knees, sinking his fingers into the sand and searching until the hot sand burned his hands like he’d grabbed a stove coil.

“Bucky!” he shouted. He tried to stand, tried to head off and find the man, but his legs weren’t cooperating and his brain kept pointing out that there was no way he just disappeared. That there must be other combatants near. But that was Bucky. That was his Bucky.

Logan was being gruff behind him, talking to Sam, probably, but then there was another hand on his shoulder, soft, kind, familiar.

“Bucky?” he asked, looking up.

But wasn’t Bucky above him. Just Hammond. There was an ATV coming through the sand too, from the direction of the base. It pulled up in time for the lab to explode.

Steve collapsed back in the sand, unable to help Hammond help him. He brought one hand up to his mouth, staring at the flames and smoke plumes. “Oh, God,” he whimpered before looking away.

 

*  * *

 

Steve would not stay in his medical bed. At first, it was to be by Sam’s side as Riley underwent operation after operation. Swelling in the brain, a shattered shoulder, broken ribs. Sam fared a little better, only because he hadn’t been falling as fast for as long, and he’d landed on Riley.

Still, as he sat in an empty holding room, his eyes were distant and his leg bounced with excess energy. Anger rolled off of him in waves before Steve had sat down and told him what happened. That it had been Bucky. Sam didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to believe Bucky could be the thing that had thrown Steve around like a discarded toy, who could shoot Riley down. Hell, it was almost impossible to believe that Bucky could be taken over like that, could be made to do something so hideous.

But Steve knew Bucky. He’d know his face anywhere. Could pick him out of a line up of look-a-likes. That was Bucky out there. Bucky who looked right at him and then right through him. Bucky who disappeared into air and then blew up a research lab.

If Steve wasn’t being heartbroken with Sam, he was insisting the team start a serious coordinated response to realizing the identity of the unknown soldier. He wanted all eyes on the radar, wanted every robot they had out in the air looking for anything that could lead them to Bucky.

Then two unthinkable things happened almost simultaneously. Brock Rumlow disappeared sometime during the flurry of the stake out team’s return, and things settling down enough to start looking for the Soldier, to start looking for Bucky. Before Carter and Fury could even get word out to the whole regiment, Tony Stark flew in, four days after everything happened. It was a bad time for him to arrive, because Riley had been up for twenty four hours at that point and he was pissed. The only thing that kept him in his bed was Sam suddenly throwing himself over Riley’s waist to hold him down.

“Hello to you too, Sparky,” Tony said. To his credit, he didn’t cower behind Steve, who was ready to jump in front of him.

“Fuck you, Stark. I know good men who are dead because of you,” Riley spat, clinging onto Sam with the arm not currently bandaged to his chest.

Tony cringed and turned from Riley. He wasn’t normally one to back down from a fight, but Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Tony actually fight that accusation. Maybe he thought he couldn’t. Maybe being faced with someone who’d lived through the horror was too much to contend with. Steve didn’t know. But he straightened when Tony turned and tried to block out the hurt in Riley’s voice to focus on Tony’s.

“I heard we found your man. I volunteered my help. They may not be my big bad, but Hydra’s getting a little too close to home for me. And two humanitarian leaders were just killed at the Stark/Potts Foundation before a meeting on stability recently and I think Hydra’s behind it.

Steve felt his blood run cold and Sam stiffened in the corner of his eye. He was sure they were both thinking the same thing. If it was Hydra, it would’ve been Bucky they sent out.

“Hey, uh, Cap?” Hammond said, appearing in the doorway suddenly, Fury in tow. “We got something from an abandoned compound we found just north of your last fight. You, uh, might want to see it.”

Stark took the disk drive and plugged it into a gauntlet at his wrist. The information appeared holographically in front of them.

It had been almost a month that they’d been searching for Bucky. If the files on this driver were anything to go by, they were two weeks behind Hydra.

“Why the hell didn’t you report him missing sooner?” Steve demanded, turning on Sam and Riley, who at least looked a little repentant.

“He’s ours. We thought we could find him,” Sam muttered.

“We’re one of the most elite squads in the USM. If anyone could find him, it would be us,” Riley added.

“At least, we thought so before we realized there were superheroes in the military and Nazis in our unit.”

Riley growled out an angry noise, slamming his fist into the bed. “We let Rumlow stay right on him. We let him know Goddamn everything we did.”

“You and me, Castle, and Romanov all filed reports on him. We tried to get him away from us. From Bucky,” Sam said quickly.

Steve let out a hurt sound before turning back to the files, manipulating the hologram until he could open one. “Oh Jesus,” he whispered after a few seconds.

“They’re mission reports,” Tony said.

Sam shook his head and crossed over to them so he didn’t have to read anything backwards. “They’re not mission reports. They’re tests. Medical endurance tests. This isn’t real. This man’s been dead for years,” Sam said, expanding a section about a high ranking officer. “He had a heart attack right when the Falcon program started. It delayed our lift off date.”

“They wanted to see what they could make him do,” Steve said. “If he’d kill USM personnel.

“Begs the question, who did the body belong to,” Sam muttered.

Steve bit his lip and collapsed the screen. He saw Tony start to pull it back up, but he had to turn around before he saw anymore. He couldn’t imagine what they’d had to have done to Bucky to wipe him like that. To make him into their own killer. That wasn’t Bucky. He couldn’t believe that it was.

Facing the door and not Stark, Steve could see Peggy walk in. He watched her notice the screen and take in what was on it before she reached for Steve’s arm.

“Walk with me, Rogers. We have things to discuss.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. I just want to find him. Please, Peggy,” he begged softly.

“I don’t want to talk about him either, Steve. I want to tell you the truth about the team he was on."

"Tell me about Rumlow," Steve demanded instead.

Peggy frowned and glanced down the hall before pulling him into an empty room. “Brock Rumlow was not cleared to be out here. Not by us. And we oversaw the whole show. He wasn’t supposed to be out here.”

“Excuse me. You _what_?” Steve demanded sharply.

Peggy sighed and made Steve sit on a desk. “We had agents in the team. WE were monitoring their process. When Shield failed to manage a successful campaign out here, we thought we could meld a special operations force with our agents to kill the problem.”

“Who the hell are the agents, Peggy?”

“Agents Barton and Romanov are ours. We were also in contact with Logan. Wade Wilson didn’t know about our involvement, but Logan kept on him, so he was mostly ours too.”

Steve let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “I knew it. I knew Shield couldn’t keep their hands off of soldiers. How did that work out last time for you? I was in the water for half a decade. Nuke went postal. And your new shithead? Fucking...Bullseye or whatever you're calling him? He’s a soldier too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Steven Grant. Shield does not operate under your opinions. I’m trying to tell you information that will help you find Barnes.”

“You let him get taken. You knew this was a dangerous mission. Did you know they were after a soldier? Did you send this team out as bait?”

Peggy scowled at him, something fierce and harsh. “No, Steven. And how dare you accuse me of something like that. You weren’t the only soldier in the war. You’re not the only one with compassion and empathy.”

“My lover just looked right through me! He tried to shoot me and he didn’t even know his name!”

“And mine crashed a plane into the ocean! War hurts us all, Steve! You cannot sit here and sulk all night while Barnes is still out there, still being used for atrocities. Yes, I have agents on Barnes’ team. No, you nor Barnes knew about it. But those agents are going to be able to find Barnes. So will you listen to me or not?”

Steve was a stubborn son of a bitch.

He had nothing on Peggy Carter.

“Tell me what they know.”

Peggy nodded, glad he saw reason. “They’ve tracked down a compound they think may still be active. Or recently reinvigorated, at least. We’re going to check it out. Drones first, then teams. We’ll pinpoint the location and run surveillance for a few days. See if the intel is good.”

“We need to find him—”

“Don't argue with me, Steven Grant.”

“If they have him, they’re torturing—”

“We know, Steve.”

“Do you?”

“Do not investigate that compound on your own,” Peggy ordered, voice hard and flat, no room for an argument.

Steve ground his teeth together and turned on his heel.

 

*  * *

 

Castle was buzzing with anger. Some clown was running around in a flag, trying to save Barnes? Fuck that. And fuck the superheroes he brought with him. Fuck this other team that had interrogated with them.

And fuck the team that had run off in the middle of the desert to fight a hostile without taking any decent sniper. And fuck the flag clown for running into a trap. Castle could see that compound was a red herring. He’d seen the videos. It was only poor women coming in and out. Kids playing with balls and kicking them over the dilapidated fence. And that asshole had blown it all up.

So the flag clown was oh for two and Barnes was still out there. Castle ignored the shaking of his hands as he fastened his vest over his chest. Billy was still missing too, but no one was mounting a search for him.

“Billy,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “What the fuck did you do, you stupid bastard?”

He only gave himself two more breaths before he was grabbing his jacket and hauling it out a debrief room. He’d been working these fuckheads from the government and apparently they couldn’t make a decision without him. Commander Castle. It had a ring to it, but he wasn’t sure he wanted it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted anything from the military again. What the fuck were they doing out here? Losing men and turning the ones that were left into traitors. Fucking Rumlow. Just walked off into the sun. Ran away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The real commander, with his imposing coat and stupid eyepatch, was standing in front of a wall of security feed, watching the chaos outside.

“Pull them back in. We’ve been taking fire for half an hour. We need to back off. Regroup,” Castle said from the doorway. He’d seen enough.

Barton had come in with the second compound location. He’d commandeered one of fucking Tony Stark’s suits to run a thermal scan of the area and found a whole ass compound hidden in some kind of manmade illusion in the sand that made it look like the compound was just part of a cliff face. Once they had visuals on it, it was an easy enough compound to access. They had been drawing out hostile and picking them off half the morning. That it was so heavily guarded meant something important. If it wasn’t Barnes, it was something big.

“Is Barton using a fucking bow and arrow?”

“Watch,” the posh British girl said, nodding to the screen. He did. And Barton was impressing. He had all sorts of tricks up his sleeve—or his quiver, as it were. At one point, while he was flipping through the air, careening off of Wilson’s back, he winked at the drone over him and had shot three enemies before he hit the ground.

Castle shook his head and stepped into the room. “Call them back. Let the assholes lower their guard for a second.”

The British one—Carter—gave the command and the teams backed off, just enough to not be suspicious as they all peeled off, back to safe locations.

The compound was pretty standard to what Castle was used to. A neatly, tightly arranged set of buildings. Plain and non-descript. If it wasn’t for the stupidly tall barbed wire fence, anyone could have walked right by it. There were seven buildings, which meant technically they could spare two people for almost every building and attack them all at once, if they decided to swarm in, or could even get close with all these bastards outside of it.

“Attack in a swarm. Put Romanov and Barton together. Hammond and McKenzie. Me and Logan. The flag-fuck with his shithead buddy Stark. And keep Sam in the sky. Attack every other one and then hop back to the one they missed.”

But Castle could tell from the look in the new assholes’s eyes that that wasn’t going to happen. The black dude--Fury, Commander Fury--had flattened his lips into a tight line and Carter had already regrouped the pairings Frank had made.

“Four to a building. We can’t risk having only two go in. The likelihood of none coming back out is too high,” she said eventually. “And we won’t pair them up based on similar skills. There’s no need to have Clint and Romanov together, or Logan and you.”

Frank didn’t argue. He could see the logic in it. He’d paired people up based on how he thought they might defend each other, fight harder to protect and get out. But there were a lot of enemies and only a few of them. Even if some of them were super powered. He still didn’t trust her judgement on his team.

“Castle, you take Wilson for extraction. You’ll team up with Rogers, with Stark on the back up,” Fury said. “Pair off Romanov with Hammond and Logan, with McKenzie on back up. Barton, Agent Carter, and I will monitor and move backup where they need to go.”

Frank was right, he didn’t like those squads. Still, he turned with a stiff posture and grabbed Sam’s jetpack strap to pull him out of the HQ bunker before Sam could ask for orders.

“You’re just gonna have us fly in, aren’t you?” Sam asked dubiously. Sam was a good soldier, but a better man. Sometimes, Frank wondered what he was still doing out here. But good soldiers and better men, in Frank’s experience, were the more likely to get things done without following the letter of the law laid down. And, hell, Fury put them together. This wasn’t Frank’s doing.

“You saw the spiral of the compound. There’s something in the center, but I don’t think it’ll be Barnes,” Frank said. Sam nodded his agreement and kept a brisk pace with Frank. “If they’ve been torturing him, they won’t want him in the center. He wouldn’t be the furthest from the action, in case they needed backup.”

“Either to deal with him or to call him out.”

Frank shot a confused look at Sam, but didn’t let him catch it. “Whatever, man. I think he’s in the third building. It’s closer to the center of it all, but still set aside laterally. It’s the only one like that. And it’s had the most action on the motion detectors.”

Sam made a noise of agreement and grabbed the harness Frank was wearing to clip them together before he took off in the air. Frank Castle did not squeeze his eyes shut because he was not a coward. And he sure as hell didn’t cling to Wilson as they soared into the air. It was a short hop to the active zone. It would be nothing like the extraction flight and Frank didn’t think about it.

Logan’s team was already on the ground with Stark in the air above them. Frank could see Barton high-tailing it out of the mess, back to headquarters while Romanov covered him before she ducked out to join her team for building exploration. Logically, he knew the situation was under control (and all fucked up).

Still, being dropped into an active warzone never got any easier. It was easy to sit in a barrack, in a secure location, to shoot the shit and fuck around with the other bastards stuck in the middle of the desert with him, to make plans and clean guns and follow orders. But running into heavy fire and nigh-on probable death was still enough to lock Frank’s muscles into place. He sprang up from the tuck-and-roll he’d landed in and couldn’t make himself move.

But the bird-shits were in the air and Barton was bound to be swinging in and out of frame and Logan was somewhere, waiting for a moment to make a snide comment and, Goddammit, Frank was a commander now. He shook himself out of the stupor and ran into the chaos. Adrenaline drummed in his veins and every movement he saw, he had to double back to make sure it wasn’t Barnes.

He was passing by the second compound, sweat soaking through his uniform, when movement caught his eye, but it wasn’t Barnes. He took the side hit full force, tumbling into the sand but springing to his feet.

“I don’t want to hit you, Frankie,” Rumlow laughed, shaking out his arms like he was really preparing for a fight. As far as Frank was concerned, it’d be a two hit fight. He hit Rumlow, Rumlow hit the ground. “You’d be such a great asset for Hydra. Face it, Frankie. You’re one bad day away from being me. You’re not fighting for justice. For vengeance.”

“You’re right,” Frank agreed, striding towards Rumlow. For all his peacocking, the shit hadn’t tried to get any closer to Frank. That was sure as shit going to change. “I’ve never fought for either of those things. Just to give what’s been earned.”

“Well, you’ve already got the no prisoners rule down,” Rumlow scoffed. The compound was behind him and there was heavy gun fire, even explosions, within so Frank knew he wasn’t running back in. Rumlow was cornered.

“Where’s Barnes, Rumlow? What the hell did you do with him?”

“Made him better than he could ever be,” Rumlow said. “Once he stopped crying.”

In all the time Frank had known Barnes, he’d never seen him cry. One of his Howlies died and he crashed on Frank’s couch for too long but never cried. In training, when everyone else was puking their guts out or gasping for air or wrapping wounds, Barnes hardly batted an eyelash. He knew a wave of emotion should be crashing over him--because for all his peacocking and bragging, Rumlow wasn’t a liar--but Frank’s eye only twitched before he was swinging out at Rumlow, ducking under his chest shot and grabbing the boot knife Rumlow had been wearing for as long as Castle knew him. He swiped it hard across Rumlow’s calf.

The man hissed and his leg dipped, but he remained standing, kicking Frank’s ribs with his hurt leg. “You know, in basics, we used to have a little fun,” Rumlow laughed. “Me and Barnes. He was an eager little shit.”

Frank scowled at Rumlow. “Will you just shut up?” he snarled.

“I’d offer you ass if that’s what I thought would shift you to our side, but you’ve got that piece at home, don’t you? And two little kids.”

Frank refused to let himself get distracted. He charged forward to tackle Rumlow to the ground, holding the knife hilt between his palm and fingers to beat in Rumlow’s face. He felt the gunshot before he heard it. Into his thigh. It sent him sprawling back and gave Rumlow a chance to get over Frank’s body.

“Used to have him laid out like this. Liked him better bent over a table, but you know how he is,” Rumlow said. How could he still be talking?

Frank shouted through the pain that exploded in his thigh as he wrapped his legs around Rumlow’s waist to roll them over together. He managed to stab the knife into Rumlow’s collarbone before Rumlow was kicking him off. Rumlow was gasping for breath, fingers trembling as he curled them around the hilt of the knife. Still, he pulled it out of his chest without shouting. It was inhuman.

The building crashed down in a fiery mess behind him and both of them watched it for a moment. “He went to an SO. Whined about it. Fucking pathetic,” Rumlow spat eventually. “Can’t believe they didn’t boot him out when he said he was queer. It was way back when. Before the repeal. Didn’t he get lucky with that one, huh?”

“Just fucking die,” Frank snarled, right in Rumlow’s face then, close enough to kick him into the building just as the rest of the roof crashed in over him. Frank stumbled back with the blast of heat that followed and he watched the structure fall apart. He was sure as hell going to make sure that bastard didn’t walk out again.

“Castle, you got eyes on Barnes yet?” Sam asked in his ear. “I can’t fly formation all day.”

“Shut up, birdbrain. I’m working on it,” Castle barked back. He tried to jog, even though it ground his teeth together. Barnes didn’t have time to wait. He had to lay down his own cover fire--”Cover-Your-Ass-Fire” Barnes’ voice laughed in his head--but hostiles were cleared out of the way and he could run straight through. He made it to the third compound before he was looking to the sky again. “You know how to get me in here?” he asked.

“South. Just on your right turn,” Sam answered. It was something Frank knew but he was in pain and adrenaline was still loud in his head. He heeded Sam’s directions and found himself in a dark room.

It was torn apart, bits of smooth flooring left in the sand, expensive walling stuck to concrete. Nothing like the outside would suggest. Someone tried to take this place down and in a rush. There was a gaping hole in the center of the room where something big had been ripped free. Then, in the far back, there was something crumbled and whimpering. Frank tore off towards the body--hoping in equal measures it’d be Barnes and that it wouldn’t be. Because that was a lot of fucking blood and Frank could tell how much pain it was in.

“Help me. Oh, God, please,” the body said, and Jesus Christ, that was Barnes. Frank’s head swam and a explosion rocked the walls but didn’t topple anything. There was something missing. Half of Barnes’ body was missing. He looked so wrong as he struggled to turn on his side. Blood poured out of his mouth like a horror movie creature and disappeared into the excess already on his face and chest.

Outside was chaos, but Frank could hardly hear it. His heart was racing in his chest, an angry gallop that had his arms moving more slowly than they normally did. He tried to shake it out of himself but then he’d catch a feeble twitch from Barnes’ body, or he’d start bleeding faster, or the smell of blood and rot would get to him in a new wave.

He forced himself to drop to his knees beside Barnes and quickly ripped part of the demolished tank top Barnes was wearing to wrap it around the stub of his arm. An arm. His entire fucking arm was gone. There was dirt and blood and something black and it was probably bad to put it on the open wound, but Frank didn’t exactly have a lot of options. He tied the strip around what was left of Barnes’ upper arm as tightly as he could. He watched the limited skin and muscle pinch and only then did he decide it was tight enough.One final rush of blood gushed from the severed space before the bleeding finally slowed.

Frank tore off his jacket and then his under shirt. He balled the shirt against the wound and then wrapped his jacket around the shirt, Barnes’ arm, and part of his chest.

 

(Art by [WalkingStardust](http://www.walkingstardust.tumblr.com))

 

“Listen to me, Barnes, and you listen damn good. I know it’s a struggle for you, but you keep those ears open, man. We’re gonna get you outta here. We didn’t tromp through the Goddamn desert again, lookin’ for you just so you could die once we got you back.”

His blood slicked fingers fumbled with the radio they’d all been equipped with. He was glad it was just a button press and there was no spoken message component. He wasn’t sure he could get anything out right now. He pulled Barnes to his chest, leaning heavily back against the wall. Barnes’ head lolled back and then forward. Something in his neck cracked, but the hard, shallow movement of his chest didn’t ease up any, so Frank assumed nothing important had snapped. Barnes’ skin was beyond gray. He looked like a pencil sketch. His eyes were flickering behind his eyelids. His fingers weren’t even twitching. The convulsions had even slowed, so his body couldn’t even subconsciously move itself.

Frank was just about to consider carrying Barnes across the fire fight, on his own bad leg, when the door opened. It was less dramatic than he was expecting. No one kicked it in or blew it off its hinges. Frank held Barnes closer, fingers curling against his shirt while the other dropped back to the gun at his hip.

Whoever walked through the door was as large as the door itself. But he was dressed in red, white, and blue, and Frank was losing blood himself, so he couldn’t make himself fight, as the man shouted, “Stand down, Castle, stand down! I repeat, don’t fire!” His arms were raised over his head and something shielded him even more, large and circular, but obscured in shadows.

Frank didn’t fire and as the figure stepped into the room and lowered his arms, the sun finally filtered in behind him to illuminate a sharp jaw and bright, worried eyes.

“Who the hell are you?” Frank asked.

The man cocked his head to one side, unsure and self conscious. “I’m Captain America,” he finally said, a kind of doubt in his voice that made Frank assume he hadn’t named himself. “Is that Bucky?”

Frank pulled Bucky closer to himself again, fingers possessive against his faltering chest now. “You know him?”

The man cocked his head again, a pained expression moving across his face. “Yeah. I know him. I’ll get him to safety.” Suddenly, the circular thing was whipped around and slotted against Captain America’s back.

“Is Wilson out there? He got the wings ready?” Frank asked. “Barnes ain’t leavin’ this building until it’s all cleared.”

“It’s never going to be all clear. I’m the best chance he’s got. Sam can’t carry you and Bucky. You’re hurt too. Let Sam get to you safety and I’ll keep Bucky safe.”

“Who are you really?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. Give him to me.” The man stepped forward, hands and arms held out. Frank studied him for another minute before something exploded outside and Wilson’s frantic voice cut over the comms, asking for immediate evacuation.

Frank struggled to his feet and as soon as they were an arm’s length away, _Captain America_ had Barnes cradled in his arms like he was something to be cherished. For the first time all afternoon, Barnes’ eyes fluttered open.

“Stevie?” he asked, voice hoarse, blood bubbling out of his mouth slowly.

“Hey, Buck. I told you I’d be there if anything went wrong. You’re shit at promises,” the man laughed weakly.

Barnes’ good hand fluttered by his side and Frank stepped forward to set it on his chest. Barnes moved it to Captain America’s instead. “Are you real?” he asked lowly. His eyes rolled back in his head and then fell shut again.

“Buck, hey, come on, hold on just a little bit longer.” Then Captain America was striding to the door and Frank was struggling to keep up on his bad leg. He saw Barnes’ eyes flutter again.

“Did I die? Are you dead? I knew you were a fuckin’ angel. Ma said so when she met you.”

“That line is so old, Buck,” Captain America--oh, _Steve_ , shit--sighed. His arms tightened around Barnes as the sergeant began shivering again. Blood was already staining through the fabric of Frank’s jacket from his arm.

Steve kept his eyes between the slates over one of the windows. Barnes’ fingers gripped weakly at the material of Steve’s jacket before falling away.

“Okay, Sam’s out there. If you lay down cover, I can get Bucky out of the line of fire.”

“There’s an entire battlefield of fire,” Frank growled.

Steve’s eyes caught on Frank’s, full of fire and indignation. His codename may have been stupid as hell, but Frank wasn’t certain he could go toe to toe with this guy right then.

“Look, man, I know that we don’t know each other and I know how important Bucky is to people. As long as you trust he’s more important to me than you could--”

“If you say ever imagine, I will just murder you where you stand,” Frank interrupted. “Just ‘cause I ain’t in love with him, don’t mean I ain’t in love with someone. You get him to safety, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Get in line, pal,” Steve scoffed. “Cover?”

Frank nodded and braced himself. He tried not to think about his bad leg and how much it hurt. He tried not to think about if he was out of ammunition. He tried not to think about Wilson soaring into the air on those dumb wings with Frank in his arms. He really tried not to think about that.

He waited for Steve to kick down the door and then ran out, laying down fire as widespread as he could. He heard Steve run out after him, ducking back and then… Frank glanced over his shoulder in time to see Steve vault the building like it wasn’t even there. A bullet clipped his shoulder and then Sam was standing in front of him, wings spread out and elongated to act as a shield between them and the hail of bullets.

“Come on, Castle. Hope you don’t weigh as much as you look like you do.”

“I’d be happier with your boyfriend carrying me.” He’d seen Riley throw entire bars of weight across the gym after successfully lifting more than he thought he could.

“You and me both, man. Come on, the wings can’t take fire forever.” He quickly wrapped the harness around Frank’s chest, stomach, and then around either thigh. “You ain’t scared of heights, right?”

“Just fly, Wilson. You talk too damn much.”

Then then they were in the air. Sam was the picture of ease as he soared through the sky but his fingers were tight against Frank’s back and his arm was shaking just a little bit. Something boomed behind them and Frank turned to look at the same time Wilson did. He pushed them higher into the sky and a decent sized stream of fire curved over them.

In the midst of the fire was a shadow of a man and then… “Steve?” Sam breathed, at the same time Frank noticed Bucky, still in Steve’s arms.

Another boom and then the fire and the shadow and the two soldiers were soaring away.

“What the fuck was that?” Frank asked.

Sam scowled and chased after the fire stream. “Everyone’s got a gimmick nowadays.”

“Says the dude in the wings,” Frank snorted. He adjusted his fingers in Sam’s harness and closed his eyes. Maybe he didn’t mean to. Maybe it was just all of the fucking blood falling out of his body. He hoped it wouldn’t leave a trail back to base.

 

*  * *

 

Steve paced nervously across the small hospital room. They hadn’t been able to get on a medevac plane because Bucky was too unstable to be moved. Steve wished he could hardly recognize him. Wished he could remove his heart from the mangled mess in the hospital bed. Bucky had been in and out of consciousness the entire time Hammond had them moving. Sometimes he just screamed in pain, and sometimes he was so delirious he told Steve to go make them breakfast.

It had taken a lot of sedative to get him down, even with all of the blood Bucky had lost. No one would tell him anything, but Steve was beginning to think there was something different about Bucky that would put him on the Invaders team once he woke up.

Someone knocked on the door jamb gently. Steve glanced up to find Sam waiting in the door. “Hey, man, you want a break from sentry duty?”

Steve ducked his head and then shook it. “No, but I wouldn’t mind some company.” He settled into the chair by Bucky’s bed and Sam took the one closer to the door. “Did Riley head home?” he asked, letting his face fall to his hands.

“Yeah. He wanted to stay but someone needed to file the reports for the wings. I told him it shouldn’t be long before I was following him. So you better tell you man to wake up.”

Steve smiled weakly and reached a hand out for Bucky’s. He didn’t look at the wrapped stub of his arm on the other side of the bed.

“Is Castle gone?”

“Yeah, they got him bandaged up and sent him home for the rest of his recovery. They’re gonna give him a medal. He doesn’t want it.”

“Yeah, he seems to like being difficult.”

“You’re not the one who had to train with him for six months.”

Steve barked out a laugh, dry and barely warm. “He was so ready to protect Bucky. It was...amazing. This team is amazing. Clint was shooting fucking arrows, man.”

Sam smiled softly and stood up to drag his chair over to Steve. He took Steve’s other hand and held it between both of his own. “And you doubted we could get him home.”

“No,” Steve scoffed. His fingers tightened between Sam’s and he brought their hands up to his forehead. Slow tears leaked over his cheeks and he was certain they must be getting onto Sam’s skin but the man wasn’t arguing. “I thought he was dead. When I walked into that building and saw him in Castle’s arms, I thought he was fucking dead. Castle looked rabid and Bucky was…” Bucky hadn’t even looked human. He’d looked like a doll that had been left out to drown. “I thought I had to carry his corpse back. I thought I was too late. I couldn’t even save him.”

“But you weren’t too late. You did save him.”

“Castle saved him. He staunched the bleeding. Bucky would’ve been…”

“Hey, listen, the shithead is a lot more stubborn than you’re giving him credit for. He’d have been fine.”

“When he looked at me, I _saw_ him _see me_. I saw my face register in his eyes. I almost collapsed.”

“He’s a fighter. He’s gonna see you again.”

“God, I hope so, Sam.”

They fell into a silence and Sam kept his hands around Steve’s. Eventually he looked over at the soldier.

“Hey, man, that getaway you had planned? What the hell was that?”

Steve sighed and freed a hand to run it over his face. “That was a stunt, wasn’t it? But how else were we supposed to get away? He needed immediate medical attention. I couldn’t wait for Riley or a chopper. Besides, Hammond’s safer.”

“Yeah, who’s gonna shoot at a trail of fire?”

“You be surprised,” Steve said drily.

“Jesus, you jumped over a building,” Sam breathed. Now it was his turn to run his hands over his face. “I still kind of didn’t believe all of it. This is...unbelievable.”

“I promise I’ll tell you more. Anything you want. I’ll pull files. Just trust me that…” Steve trailed off,  unsure how to sate his friend. “Bucky is the most important thing to me. I can’t… I can’t focus on anything else right now, least of all this stupid schtick they have me playing.” He turned his attention back to Bucky, thumb tracing a gentle arc over his skin. His hand was hot. Steve could feel the blood flowing under the thinner skin. Bucky was alive and he was breathing and he was going to be so angry. At everything. At the medical discharge and Steve being a fucking superhero and the lying and they way they didn’t know if he could get a prosthetic fit for a cut like this, flush against the arm.

But, Goddammit, he was alive.

Sam settled back in his chair, fiddled on his phone, and then tilted his head back against the wall as it started to play some old crooner’s discography.

“Sinatra?” Steve finally asked, and the small smirk that quirked Sam’s lips was answer enough.

“Barnes sings his songs all the time. If anything’s gonna wake him up, it’s gonna be this song.”

Steve sighed and looked at Bucky. He thought he knew that, thought he’d heard Bucky singing “Under My Skin” in the shower a time or two. But he hadn’t thought to play it for him.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly leaning over Bucky’s bed to speak directly to Bucky. “No leaving me for Wilson when you wake up, alright? I was here first and Riley’ll kick your ass.”

Sam snorted off to his side and Steve kept himself bent towards the bed, forehead on the plastic railing. He fell asleep like that.

 

(Art by [ChildOfWintre](http://childofwintre.tumblr.com/))

 

 

[End Part 2]


	3. After

Bucky came to in discomfort. He felt like he was in his childhood home. He could hear someone climbing the stairs to his room. Trying to locate the source of the noise made his head spin, but at least he was home.

“Mama?” he called out softly. He fought to get his eyes open, but he couldn’t see anything, felt his eyes rolling back in his head as he crashed under unconsciousness once more. Someone was calling his name, shaking his shoulder. Like his mom used to do for early morning practice, when he couldn’t pull himself out of bed. “Ma, please, five more minutes. I’ll run to school,” he mumbled, lips catching on the rough material of his pillow case.

He felt a hand settle over his cheek and the anxiety in his body eased out of his shoulders. “I love you, mama,” he mumbled, letting himself sleep again.

When he next woke up, he was even more uncomfortable. There was a throbbing ache across his entire body and his head was killing him. He cracked open his eyes and felt like someone had been blowing sand directly into them. One eye wouldn’t open on its own, but that was okay.

“Steve?” he asked, reaching out for Steve’s hand. “Steve...I can’t feel my arm.” It wasn’t until Steve startled in his chair that he realized Steve had been asleep, not watching the news from the TV at the other side of the room.

“Hey. Hey, Buck,” he crooned out, still half asleep. He reached for Bucky’s hand with one of his own and the other rubbed sleep from his eyes. He was beautiful. The most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened? Why are you here? Where am I?” Bucky tried to sit up, but his arm wouldn’t catch on the bed, his hand fell through nothing, and he collapsed back into the mattress. It sent aching pain through his ribs and shoulders and he couldn’t stop a gasp.

With his own pained expression, Steve hovered his hands uselessly over Bucky’s body. “Hey, be easy. It’s okay. Just lay back,” he soothed softly.

Bucky let himself be lulled by Steve’s gentle tone and his eyes closed again. He tried to bring his hand up to cover his face but nothing moved, no shadow eclipsed his eyes. His shoulder strained, but that was as much that happened.

“Steve, what happened?” he asked, opening his eyes to peer at Steve. One eye was definitely swollen. Steve’s blurred image swam in and out of visibility.

“Buck, I need to tell someone you’re awake. They can answer more questions than me.”

“I saw you. You saved me,” Bucky insisted, reaching for Steve’s hand quickly when Steve stood. “Why were you there? How were you there?”

“Buck…” Bucky saw a million different white lies flash across Steve’s face but when he sighed, there was just open pain. “Do you remember what happened?”

“The barracks were attacked. Everyone ran to stop it.”

“And then?” he prompted. He sat back down and held Bucky’s hand between both of his own. Steve’s skin was so hot that Bucky almost pulled away from him.

“I don’t remember,” he said softly. “I don’t...I can’t remember. How long’s it been?”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand and it was a testament to how many drugs Bucky was on because he could barely feel it. “I’m gonna call a nurse. They need to know how you are now.”

“What happened, Steve? Did...did someone die? Oh, God, not Castle. Not sam,” he begged softly, voice weak and watery. “Clint. Natasha. Fuck, Riley.”

“No, no. Buck, it’s okay. Everyone’s okay. Um...Russo was the only one we were worried about.”

Bucky’s whole body relaxed. He nodded and closed his eyes. Of everyone on the team, Russo was his second to last concern. Him and Rumlow could disappear and Bucky wouldn’t care even a little bit. The only thing keeping him civil with Russo was his bond with Castle.

“Wade Wilson?” he asked, instead of wasting energy on Russo. “He was caught in the fire, in the explosion.”

“He’s been recovering. Logan got him out, got him to safety, to help.”

Bucky’s body relaxed even more, or maybe he’d just seized up when he thought about Wilson.

“The whole team is fine. Riley got shot down while we were looking for you, but he’s already recovered enough to have gone home. Stateside, I mean.”

“We’re still in the desert?” Bucky asked as panic and guilt built in his stomach again.

“No. No. They’ve been moving you slowly. Greece. Italy. France. Finally London. You’ve been here for a while. They wanted you awake and cognizant before trying the flight over the ocean.”

Bucky didn’t know anything about serious injuries and medical care, but that didn’t sound right. When he’d been shot, they stapled him on the field, taken him to the embassy hospital, and sent him home within a week. This didn’t sound like recovery. This sounded like hiding.

“Tell me what happened to me,” he demanded suddenly, coldly, angrily. He struggled to sit up because his fucking arm wouldn’t cooperate. He reached over to bodily move it with his other hand. Though Steve reached out to stop him, Bucky was faster. Only, he didn’t grab his arm. He didn’t grab anything. No matter how long he pawed at his side, he didn’t hit anything at all. Steve grimaced next to him and Bucky turned like he was in a horror movie. That’s what this had to be. A fucking nightmare.

There was nothing connected to his shoulder. Bucky pressed his hand flat against the minute stump under his hospital gown. Before he could shout or break down or lose his mind, a nurse hurried in. Maybe a doctor. Between the tears stubbornly spilling over his cheeks and the light headed haze that had suddenly over take him, it was difficult to tell the difference.

“Major Barnes!” she greeted. She was young. Bucky wasn’t sure why that surprised him. Maybe he thought his case was so bad only experienced personnel should be allowed near him. He wondered if she’d been assigned to distract him, if that was the same reason they let Steve stay.

“I’m so glad to see you up. You’re quite the talker in sleep, but unfortunately we need coherent answers for our records.” Alright, maybe she could distract him. She smiled and moved to the free side of his bed.

“My name is Dr. Cho. Don’t worry, I’m not English so I’m not conspiring to keep your pretty face here longer than you need. I’m actually a colleague of Tony Stark’s. We work together on medical research.”

“You’re a doctor?” Bucky eventually managed. “Wait? Stark? Isn’t he private sector now? He’s not military.”

Steve reached for Bucky’s hand again as Bucky laid back. Fucking drugs.

“Yes, sir. Due to the nature of your deployment and injury, we thought it best to treat you through Mr. Stark’s resources.”

“Oh, God, what did we do? What happened to me?” he whimpered. Stark was a maniac. His weapons took out entire villages, killed soldiers on both sides of the line. The attention always had to be on him, especially once he wasn’t involved in the military. A green initiative that killed coral reefs. Parties that ended with exploded beach houses. A fucking superhero army that was constantly seeing kids hurt. If Stark was involved in this, their whole team was fucked.

“Tony didn’t have anything to do with it,” Steve assured quickly. “Hey, hey, your team didn’t do anything wrong. Hydra is bad. You were doing good.”

“I want answers. Please, God, what happened to me?” Bucky demanded again. Desperation was clawing at his chest and the longer everyone avoided the conversation, the more he felt himself withering away.

Dr. Cho smiled sadly at him. “You’re okay, Major Barnes. The damage to your body was manageable and the lapses in memory, as well as the brain damage, seems to be healing itself at a remarkable rate.”

“Brain damage? Memory loss?” Bucky whimpered. “I know who I am. I know what I did. I…”

“Would you like Captain Rogers to remain in the room as we discuss the events of your capture?” Dr. Cho asked. “We can also bring in Director Carter and--”

“No. No. Just Steve. Just tell me what’s happening,” he insisted.

“You were captured by Hydra hostiles,” Dr. Cho began before Steve interrupted.

“Hydra medically tortured you. They experimented on you, tested knock off versions of the super soldier serum.”

“That dumb thing Stark senior was doing?” Bucky scoffed.

Steve bit his lip and nodded. “Based on evidence we pulled from the compound we found you in, they managed to successfully...fucking hypnotize you or something.”

“What Captain Rogers means is that you appeared to have forgotten who you were, and what your goal in the area was. They seem to have manipulated your memory so that they could remove personal details while allowing your training and tactical skills to remain sharp. They convinced you to…”

Now Dr. Cho looked away. Steve gave her the time. He looked like he was going to fall apart first anyway. “You fought Captain Rogers several times during your capture. You killed three high ranking generals under cover in the area and a UN member doing humanitarian work.”

Bucky didn’t think he’d reacted until his mouth was full of blood, spilling from the corners of his lips and choking him, and Dr. Cho was rushing to his side. Steve was there too, helping her pry Bucky’s jaw open and getting a mouth guard with a bar at the back into his mouth. Steve pulled him onto his side and blood drained from his mouth in a horror show.

“Captain Rogers, would you mind grabbing me gauze squares please?” Dr. Cho asked. Bucky would give her credit. She didn’t seem fazed. In fact, she seemed to prefer this to having to tell him what he’d done. “Both the ingestible one and a regular one. And the tape as well.”

Steve handed the materials over and Dr. Cho set about fixing the hole Bucky had bitten in his lip. “It’s the third time you’ve done that,” Steve sighed as he sat back down. He reached for Bucky’s hand. “Do you think it’s a kill switch or something? There was so much scar tissue they had to surgically remove it to get your lips to close to give you fluids.”

Bucky stared at Steve with wide eyes, heart hammering in his chest. The mouth guard was giving him anxiety and he couldn’t figure out why. It was something...something...it meant pain. It meant he was going to be hurt. Badly.

“ _Please_  ,” he garbled out in Russian. “  _Please don’t. I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I didn’t know._ ”

He saw Steve and Dr. Cho look at each other sharply. “What was that, Buck?” he asked. “Just wait a second while we get this bandage off. You can tell me again.”

Dr. Cho worked quickly, cutting the square down to size and making sure the tape was secure to Bucky’s lip before gently removing the mouthguard. “Can you repeat that for us, Major Barnes?”

Bucky snapped his jaw shut and shook his head. Steve sighed softly. “Dr. Cho, don’t forget to ask Jarvis about that argument we had.”

Dr. Cho nodded slowly. “Of course, Captain Rogers. Major Barnes, would you like to take a break?”

Bucky forced himself to shake his head. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever thought anything in his life could, knowing what he’d done. But he had to. He had to know. He had to deal with it right now. “ _I’ll be good_ ,” he repeated in Russian. He saw Steve flinch from the corner of his eye but he didn’t look over at the man.

“There is going to be a lot of reconstructive and therapeutic work needed to get you moving at full capacity again. But, I’ll tell you a secret,” Dr. Cho said, a small, hopeful twinkle in her eye.

Bucky would humor her because she was cute and he could use some hope. “What’s that then, Doc?”

“I think you’re going to pull through just fine because every single person who’s come to see you has told me that you probably wouldn’t even want to stay for observation once you woke up. That you’d be fine as soon as you got your balance back. You’re just like that, they all said.”

“Who all’s been to watch me sleep?” Bucky snorted.

“Hell, Buck, who hasn’t been?” Steve laughed. “I think I’ve met more people from your life in the past few weeks than you’ve even mentioned the whole time we’ve been together.”

Bucky scowled at that. He had his reasons for keeping his past private. And he didn’t like to mix squadrons. He didn’t even like this spec-ops team having people he’d worked with before meeting people he worked with now. His life was very specific and structured and, fuck, he couldn’t remember what that structure was or why Steve couldn’t meet the Howlies.

“You’ve got a wonderful support system. I think you’re going to be just fine,” Dr. Cho said, squeezing Bucky’s hand. For a moment, Bucky wondered which hand she’d grabbed before he realized he only had the one to grab. It sent a wave of panic crashing through Bucky again and he tried not to let it show. It must not have worked because Steve was reaching for his hand quickly, holding it between both of his own.

Dr. Cho handled her dismissal gracefully and simply moved to the end of Bucky’s bed to read over his chart. “You’ve been in a coma for about a week now. After the trauma you’d gone through, we expected you to be down for almost a month. We’re still testing the waters of your recovery and healing periods, but you’re showing a remarkable speed to your recuperation”.

Steve kept an eye on Bucky, holding his hand tightly. “Do you know why that might be, Buck?” he asked softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand.

“Captain,” Dr. Cho said, a warning clear in her voice.

He waved her off. He brought Bucky’s hand up to his mouth and held it there until Bucky’s heart started to beat normally again. Bucky stared at him, wide eyed and mute. He knew. Of course he knew. It was a constant threat to him.

“Ever since the bullet wound…” he began and realization dawned over Dr. Cho’s face.

“Captain, Major, I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,” she offered before hurrying out of the door.

Bucky couldn’t remember what he’d said to make her run away. “Steve…” he started. The gauze was awkward in his mouth and he had trouble speaking without shoving his tongue again it. It wasn’t that it hurt, but he felt like he could feel each individual fiber in the bandage, like his mouth was full of hair.

“Don’t fight the medication, baby,” Steve said, kissing Bucky’s knuckles.

“My arm is gone, Steve,” he said, voice wobbly and weak.

“I know it is.”

“I don’t remember.”

“I know that too. We’re going to work on it, okay?”

“I don’t want to remember, Stevie,” Bucky whimpered, voice finally breaking as tears started down his face in earnest. “I don’t want to remember that.”

He lifted his hand up to his shoulder, searching for the bulletwound he always pressed on to assure himself that something was real. There was only bandaging. He couldn’t feel anything on his left side. Even his leg felt numb and he worried that he’d lost that too. But when he suddenly kicked out, he smacked his foot on the bed railing and that he sure as hell felt.

“I killed people. I killed- I tried to kill- Good- Stevie,” he sobbed, clutching onto Steve’s hand as tightly as he could with only one to do so with.

“Doll, doll, it’s alright, it’s okay, we’re here now. You’re safe now.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not. I’m not. I’m cursed. They’re after me. They want me dead, Stevie. They want me to hurt. To make me suffer. Because I wasn’t good enough. Because I know too much.”

Oh, God, was Steve in danger? Did Bucky have to hide him away? Leave him? The crying reached a new hysteria and Steve lowered the bed railing enough to crawl into the bed with Bucky. He was careful to avoid the wires and tubes and everything connected to Bucky that had been...Jesus Christ, that had been keeping him alive.

Steve pulled Bucky close, holding him tightly, even as sobs wracked Bucky’s body violently. Bucky hid his face against Steve’s shoulder. He didn’t want to look at the world. He didn’t want the world to see him. If there was a way to keep Steve’s goodness out of this mess too, he’d do it. But he was too weak, to selfish to give Steve up, especially right then, at his weakest moment.

Bucky couldn’t fight it free his arm from where it was trapped between their bodies and the medicine was suddenly hitting him like a brick wall. He was surprised he hadn’t sobbed it all out.

“It’s okay, baby doll. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone.”

Bucky didn’t feel not alone right then. He felt like he was half dead and he was struggling to figure out which half was which.

He cried himself to sleep.

 

*  * *

 

Dr. Cho was not wrong. There was a lot of therapy, just to get Bucky on his feet, much less standing alone. They gave him a weighted blanket to drape over his shoulders to even out his balance. They gave him the weirdest cane he’d ever seen. It was almost half a walker, with two legs and a connection bar to hold them together. The leg on his right side looked like a can, sturdy and straight, while the other one slanted off to the side. There was a belt he had to wear around his waist to keep the stupid thing centered and it had weight on his left side too.

He really didn’t understand the point of constantly weighing him down until he unthinkingly, high off of pain medication and still half asleep, tried to get out of bed and immediately fell straight into Steve, who was sleeping off to his right.

It had only been a week, but he already felt like his abdomen was four times stronger than it ever was in the military. He’d used his right arm to the point of exhaustion most days. He couldn’t help but crawl back into bed and even then he had to have Steve scroll through his phone and read him messages and news stories because he honestly couldn’t feel his right hand for hours after his exercises.

He let his head loll to the side while Steve was in the middle of a story about an oil crisis—Bucky liked to know how his country had pissed off before he went into active battle sites. Though he supposed that wasn’t as relevant now—when Bucky suddenly interrupted him. “You were there. Dr. Cho had said I fought you, but I didn’t remember. Now I do. I remember. I remember…” The chair afterwards. The pain. The taunting as he slowly forgot the love of his life again.

“Why were your here, Steve?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat and bit his lip. “There’s something you don't know about me. The same way there was stuff I didn’t know about you. Military stuff.” He bit his lip and looked away again, steeling himself, Bucky realized. For some reason, he thought whatever Steve was about to tell him was going to hurt a hell of a lot more than the therapy and the surgeries. Maybe even more than when they had to dig out stitches swallowed by his more rapidly healing skin.

“I didn’t fight in Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or any other bullshit war they’ve made up this century.”

Bucky frowned and rubbed at his eyes tiredly before letting his arm flop on his chest. “But..you’re a Captain? You’re a soldier, I’ve seen your tags,” Bucky insisted.

Steve nodded. “I’m a soldier. A Captain, even, though I’ve probably leveled up since then.”

“Commander Rogers,” Bucky agreed. “I’ve seen it in your emails. But my guys call me Sarge still. That’s not… not the thing you’re scaring me about.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and hid his face behind his hands. “Buck, promise me that you understand what I’m about to say...none of this is to hurt you. Not the keeping it secret, not the telling you now.”

Bucky whimpered softly, defeated yet again, but he nodded. Defeated was becoming a permanent state of being for him recently. What was one more loss?

“Okay. Okay. I was a Captain in World War II,” he said softly, finally.

Bucky felt his stomach swoop out from under him. “That would make you…”

“Just about one hundred,” Steve answered, so Bucky didn’t have to do the guessing and math. “Yeah. I was born in 1918. I enlisted when I was 23. I actually enlisted four times and got rejected four times. But this guy saw me on the last one. Erskine.”

The name was familiar but nothing Bucky was immediately recognizing. Still, the story was sitting uncomfortable in his stomach.

“He signed me up for this test...an experiment. To create a perfect soldier out of a good man.”

“Erskine was killed by Hydra.” That’s where Bucky knew the name from. It was on the long list of notable figures in the death list in their files before they’d shipped out. Still, there was something else.

Steve looked pained, but nodded. “He was. Right after I came out of his and Stark’s machine.”

“Howard Stark…” Bucky assumed, but frowned. “Tony Stark also worked with an Erskine.”

Steve nodded again. “I’ll get there, hang on. Erskine’s experiment was successful. I went from 5’4” and 105 pounds to 6’6” and 270 pounds. I was faster, stronger, healed faster. All of the things—“

“All of the things that’re happening to me.” Bucky’s head swam and he’d need to pass out again soon.

Steve nodded. “Exactly. When I fought in the war, I was fighting Hydra. They’d attempted the Super Soldier experiment as well, but it went horribly wrong. By the time I caught the guy, he’d rigged a plane to explode over the northern seaboard. I couldn’t let that happen. So I crashed the plane and I froze in the Arctic Ocean. Tony Stark found me in the early 2000s. He and Erskine, the younger, had been attempting to use their fathers’ research to find a cure for cancer.”

Bucky scoffed and Steve winced.

“And maybe Tony was still in the war game at that point. They used samples of my blood and tissues to attempt to reconstruct the serum. Obviously, it failed. But it did win Erskine her Nobel Prize when she was able to extract enough of a sequence to recreate even just a third of the serum’s potential. Her research has reversed Alzheimer’s and healed memory damage.”

Bucky brought a hand up to his head. Steve nodded.

“Obviously whatever you’ve been given through the years has at least those elements.” He leaned over the edge of the bed and reached for Bucky’s hand. “The things you’ve survived...no ordinary man would have been able to survive them. Hydra didn’t make you great, Bucky. I need you to remember that. I’ve seen too many good men—“

“Good heroes,” Bucky corrected.

Steve cringed again. But Bucky hadn’t let go of his hand so he soldiered on. “I’ve seen too many good men and women, good heroes, lose their way because they think they need to thank their abuser for their powers. You already had the serum. You were already most of a super soldier by the time Hydra got their claws in you. Even if you hadn’t, you fought through what they did to you. You’re stronger all on your own, Bucky. You are wholly yours now.”

It kicked Bucky’s heart up in his chest. He could hear every beat and he wondered if Steve could too. “What I did out there...the people that I hurt? That’s wholly mine too,” he said raggedly.

“No. Buck, no. They took you out of your body. They took away Bucky Barnes and used a shell. That wasn’t you.”

“My body. Like you said, if it had been anyone else, the serum would’ve killed them. The...the…” Fucking chair. Why couldn’t he just say that? “If it hadn’t been me, if I hadn’t been there to fight through it, those people would still be alive.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, Buck. Maybe they would be. Or maybe this crazy bastards would’ve just killed them anyway. Maybe they would’ve tortured them. Killed their family. Blown up an embassy. Maybe they went home one night and the building collapsed around them. We don’t know what they were planning. We don’t know why they chose you. What role they planned on you playing.

“They left you there, Bucky. They left a unique weapon they’d worked on for two months. Why do you think they’d do that? You were a problem. You were fighting back. You remember who you were. Can you imagine how much of a problem you must’ve been to have that outweigh how useful you were to them?”

Bucky scoffed and dropped his head back into his pillow. “That remarkably doesn’t make me feel better, Rogers.”

Steve made a sound off to Bucky’s side and when Bucky looked over at him, Steve bit his lip and asked, “Are we gonna talk more about the super soldier thing?”

Bucky shook his head and pretended like the abrasive scratching sound didn’t hurt his ears. “No. Not right now.”

“Am I in… Are we still… I just…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Rogers. You’re the last strong hold I have right now. You can’t go anywhere. I can’t let you go.” It was selfish, maybe, to keep Steve close by while Bucky was struggling, but, God, he really didn’t want to do this alone. And if Steve went, Sam went and that was devastating too. Not that Bucky would ever admit to that.

“‘Til the end of the line, Buck. I promise.”

“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky repeated with a fierce nod.

 

*  * *

 

It was, all things considered, not a bad afternoon. Bucky had been up for therapy all morning and had barely gotten winded. He only needed to return to his room because the gym was booked for some kiddie class. Steve was lounging in the seat next to Bucky’s bed, a book propped opened on his knees as he read.

“ ‘You will get me out of your thoughts in a week,’ ” he read softly. “ ‘Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then.’ ” And Bucky didn’t miss the sideways quirk of Steve’s lips as he tried to hide his face behind the book. “ ‘You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since,—on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with.’ ” Bucky missed the next few sentences, reaching out to run his fingers over the material of Steve’s pants gently. Every graceful fancy, indeed. “ ‘Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil.’ ”

It made Bucky swallow, rough and unforgiving as the words washed over him. He thought he’d read Great Expectations in school. It was one of his sister’s favorite books. But he didn’t recognize the passage. Or maybe he was just finally understanding it, really hearing it for the first time. He reached for Steve’s hand, pulling it away from the book, making Steve stop mid-sentence as the page flopped over.

“You must have done for me far more good than harm,” he finished, meeting Bucky’s eye. They didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the words settle in the room, in their  minds. Hit close to home for a book written two hundred years ago.

“I need to pee. Help me get up,” Bucky said suddenly, when it got to be too much. He pulled himself to a sitting position using the bar on the edge of the bed and then wrangled it down so so he could swing his legs off the side. Steve was next to him, holding his arm as Bucky got his feet on the floor. He managed to stand up, but immediately pitched to his heavier side, falling into Steve’s chest. Steve, of course, caught him like it was no issue.

Bucky refused to be deterred. This was his life, Goddammit. This was how things were going to have to be and he had to fight through it if he ever wanted to live normally again. He freed his arm from Steve’s hand and held himself against the bed. “Could you grab my sweat pants?”

“What? Not in the mood to show off that fine ass to everyone in the hall?” Steve teased, even as he reached for the duffel bag that had slowly accumulated stuff over the week.

“I’m surprised you’d _want_ me to.” Bucky shrugged his shoulder up to wipe away sweat that was beading on his temple. “Thought you’d want to keep everything for yourself,” he added, taking the sweatpants from Steve. He couldn’t tell if it was just the jerky nature of his initial movements, but he swayed until he got his hand back on the bed.

Steve hummed next to him, offering an arm out for Bucky to hold onto, or lean into. “Well, I like to think that your ass prefers me over whoever would end up seeing it outside. I think I treat it fairly well.”

The comment made Bucky shiver and he let out a groan of frustration. “Don’t say shit like that while I’m stuck here, under surveillance.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “You’re the worst. Here, lean into my side.”

He didn’t try to grab Bucky’s pants back, or help him other than being a balancing beam. It was a struggle to do it one handed, but leaning on Steve made it a little easier and Bucky managed to get his equilibrium quick enough to tug his pants on and up to his waist. He hated that it felt like a victory.

“I’m gonna step away now, alright?” Steve warned before slowly moving from Bucky’s side.  Bucky kept himself upright and tried to follow after Steve, occasionally having to grab the bed to keep from falling, but he made it back to Steve’s chest against the opposite wall and fell into him with a laugh, arm going around his waist.

“Well, what’s the difference between five feet to you and all the way down the hall to the restroom?” he scoffed lightly as Steve kissed his head.

“Well, now we can test out that fancy cane of yours,” Steve said. “It should make it easier.” He reached for the contraption before handing it to Bucky to get a decent grip on it before helping him strap it to his arm, and then working the elastic band around his waist. It was supposed to distribute weight more easily. Dr. Cho thought it would help, so Steve was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure, if you want,” Bucky muttered. He tested his weight on the cane before giving Steve a short show of a few steps. It was remarkably easier to move. He didn’t know the physics behind it. Maybe if the army didn’t deny him his school money, he could ask a professor.

He didn’t get to play around with it for long before the door was suddenly thrown open and a mass of men were pouring into the room. Steve was tense beside Bucky, but Bucky knew immediately what was going on.

“I thought I smelled you, Dum-Dum,” he laughed, hobbling over to the group and immediately being swallowed by them. It felt like home.

“We just had to follow the smell of smoke,” Morita chortled somewhere in the mix.

“Whatever, that would have just led to Dernier,” Bucky scoffed.

“At least I’m prettier than you,” Dernier answered back. His French accent was thick in his amusement and Bucky let out a wobbly breath.

“Sarge, you look like you’re doin’ all _right_ here,” Dum Dum laughed, while the other guys groaned and apologized.

“If I could strangle you with one hand, I would,” Bucky warned, though the joke didn't hurt as much as normal discussions of the amputation did.

When Bucky finally managed to fight his way out of the crowd and was able to lean against Steve’s chest again, he gestured between them. “Steve, these are the Howling Commandos. Howlies, this is Steve. My boyfriend.”

The Holwies wolf-whistled and Bucky blushed. “Um, this is Dum-Dum. Morita. Dernier. Gabe Jones. Happy Sam. Pinky. And Junior.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. I know you’re all real close to Bucky and mean a lot.” Steve shifted from foot to foot, still uneasy, but now for a wholly different reason. These were not the circumstances he’d wanted to meet the men who’d become Bucky’s family under.

“I guess he means a lot to us too,” Morita said before laughing and tugging Bucky closer with an arm around his shoulders. He caught Bucky when he lost his balance as easily as he would catch himself on a familiar misstep. Steve wondered if Bucky even realized he’d been falling.

“Bucky hasn’t said nothin’ substantial about you,” Gabe said. His voice seemed to fill up the whole damn room. It was amazing Bucky had stood next to this guy and managed to be seen at all. “Just all these half sentences—“

“And the sighing!” Dernier interrupted with a laugh.

“And, ‘you guys just have to meet him. He’s…” Morita continued.

“Beyond words!” Sam finished, leaning on Pinky’s side. They both cackled next to each other and Bucky blushed.

“You are all the worst. God.” He worked his way back to Steve’s side and gestured at them. “They’re all doing really cool stuff on teams together. Morita’s leading these babies in classified missions with human rights violations,” he explained, gesturing to Sam, Junior, and Pinky. “Gabe just ranked up. And Dum Dum…”

“Is part of a heroes initiative, like what you’ve got going on here.” At Bucky’s scandalized expression, he shrugged. “We looked up your man. We knew who he was.”

“Where’s Falsworth?” Bucky asked, and his heart sank at the way his guys’s eyes all cast downwards at the same time. “No. What happened?”

“He was doing his Captain Britain thing and a baddie got the better of him,” Duncan said softly. Bucky felt his heart crack in his chest.

A world without Falsworth didn’t much feel like a world. Falsworth was the oldest in their unit and he had always been the suave, kind father figure. He was the one who saved Bucky after he was shot. He was the one who’d stayed in his hospital room until Bucky woke up so he wouldn’t be too confused. There hadn’t been a time he and Falsworth had met up stateside that Falsworth didn’t make Bucky take him to see Anna and Maggie.

Falsworth not being the room was so wrong that Bucky swayed back into Steve’s chest. Steve didn’t make a big show of catching Bucky, but his hands were firm at Bucky’s hips, head dipping close to press his lips against Bucky’s hair softly.

“We brought you stuff!” Junior said quickly, like he wanted nothing more than to run from the tension. “Since it was some of ours first times being in London and all, and since we figured you weren’t out there exploring, we did it for you.”

He and Sam lugged up a large bag brimming with things. “There’s so much food in here, Sarge, you ain’t ever gonna stop eatin’.”

“And I put together little trinkets of mine and Falsworth’s favorite sights. That way you’d know what was really beautiful about our country,” Pinky added.

“He put in a cow,” Morita clarified, digging in the bag until he produced a stuffed animal of a Scottish Highland cow.

“It is better than another print of a clock!” Pinky argued. Morita scoffed and dropped the toy back into the bag.

“Did we interrupt your morning, Sarge?” Gabe asked, cutting through the noise and looking serious in the face of the joking and being strong for appearance’s sake.

“Uh, actually, kind of? Why don’t you guys go get lunch and come back? I just only got out of bed. I was gonna go pee. Be with my man some.”

Dum Dum snorted and then laughed. “There used to be a time I was the only man you needed.”

Steve looked appropriately shocked and Bucky quickly added, “You were never enough man for me.”

“And that’s saying something, Captain, because Dugan is a lot of man,” Dernier laughed, patting Steve’s chest. It only served to make Steve blush even more red.

“We’ll bring you back a burger, Sarge,” Junior promised. “And then you have to tell us about this new team you’re on.”

“I don’t like any of them,” Sam said with a scowl that really showed off just how young he still was.

“I actually had a Sam on this team. I think you’d like him,” Bucky said with a grin.

“The scandal. Pinkerton, he’s replacing me,” Sam gasped in mock horror.

“What exactly do you do for this team, Happy?” Pinky asked.

“Hey! More than Junior!”

“How dare you,” Junior said. “I named the Howlies.”

“How did you come up with a name like Howling Commandos?” Steve asked. When Junior caught Bucky’s eye, Bucky sighed and turned to Steve, pulling him into a kiss. The Commandos broke out into wolf-whistles and whoops.

“It was not a hard name to think of,” Junior laughed when the noise died down.

Steve looked appropriately dazed for a moment, but Bucky couldn’t blame him. They’d hardly touched at all since Bucky woke up. Just passing brushes, soft kisses. And that was really a hell of a kiss. Still, he recovered admirably, even if Bucky could see him making plans in his head.

“No, I imagine it wasn’t difficult to name,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “After living with Barnes for awhile, I thought you were all just predispositioned to shouting at the most minor inconvenience.”

“Or when you eat his food!” Dum-Dum added. Bucky scowled at him.

“Weren’t you all going out to eat or something?”

“Are you gonna shout about food now, babe?” Steve teased lowly.

“You I will kill,” Bucky warned.

Steve chuckled next to him and kissed his hair again.

“We’ll give you a few hours to get your bathroom break in,” Dernier said with a grin. “I remember how long it usually takes you.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky laughed. “Get out of here. I’ll see you guys in a few.”

As they streamed out of the room, jostling each other and just as loud as they had been when they’d come in, Steve stepped next to Bucky, holding him securely.

“They seem nice,” he said with a small smile, squeezing Bucky’s hip.

Bucky sagged against Steve but nodded. “They’re the best. I just...I’m not good enough to see them right now. I’m tired.” He could feel the stare Steve fixed on him, but the other man didn’t say anything. Bucky was grateful for it.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom,” Steve said, tightening the cane harness again. “You think you’ve got it on your own?” he asked, even as Bucky was slowly working his way there.

He could feel Steve right behind him, but Steve was keeping his distance and Bucky managed to get into the small attached bathroom without falling over. But, as he stood over the toilet, he scowled and looked back. “Steve, will you come pull down my pants?” He could hear Steve holding in snickers and he scowled some more. “Don’t laugh!”

“Yeah, yeah, Barnes. I’ll be there, let me get the door.”

 

*  * *

 

Later that night, after the Howlies had brought enough food to feed an army and then left to the hotel they were all camping in—God help the other guests of it—Bucky Barnes woke up screaming. Steve was on his feet immediately. He knew better than to grab Bucky in the middle of a nightmare, so he kept his hands in his pockets. It was the only way to keep his hands to himself.

“Buck, Buck, you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.”

“It hurts. It hurts, Steve. Why are you here? They’ll get you too. Oh, God. Oh, God, they’re going to saw my arm off. Steve! Steve!”

Steve’s heart broke in his chest and he reached out but managed to grab the bed rail instead of Bucky. “Listen to me. You’re dreaming. It isn’t real. Wake up, baby,” Steve said. “Come back to me, doll.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, just jagged breaths and rustling sheets. Then he started screaming in earnest. In between his stolen moments with Bucky, Steve had been kept in the loop with the information extraction happening with the files found in the compound. Steve knew that screaming. It was the same from the video of the amputation.

“Bucky! Bucky! You’re safe. This isn't happening again!” He finally broke and grabbed Bucky’s face, just trying to calm him down, to ground him. Bucky had his arm twisted and held tightly almost immediately. But, God, at least the screaming had stopped. When doctors and nurses rushed in, Steve shooed them back out, waving frantically with his free hand and trying not to let them know he was actually in pain.

“Bucky, Bucky, listen to me. It’s Steve. You’re about to break my wrist. But you know that, don’t you?”

“They always say that. They always say it’s you.” Bucky was staring right through him, eyes half open, no movement or life behind them.

“Okay, okay. Did they know you were obsessed with that hideous sex song by Nine Inch Nails or whatever? Did they know I stripped to it for our one month anniversary.”

Bucky blinked, going slack jawed and letting go of Steve’s hand. He crumbled back into the bed. His chest was heaving with every breath and it took all of Steve’s willpower not to grab him and hold him and promise him it was okay.

A nurse stepped back into the room with a medicine bag. “What just happened?” she asked, no nonsense as she worked on replacing his bag.

“Nightmare,” Steve sighed, rubbing his good hand over his face. “Thought he was back out in the desert.”

The woman hummed. “We get a lot of that through here. The way he screamed though…”

Steve sighed again and nodded. “I know. It’s bad. It’s going to be a long uphill battle.”

“It’s worth it. My old man fought in Korea. Took us a while to get him sleeping through the night. Sometimes he still doesn’t. And he’s not quite the same man I kissed goodbye, but he’s mine. He’s alive. And he’s healed. Yours will too,” she said with a small, worn smile.

“I hope so, ma’am. With the care here, he’ll have no excuse but to heal. You’ve all been so wonderful to him.”

“Oh, and you’re charming too,” the woman laughed then. “You really are the whole package. No wonder he fights through the drugs to talk about you.”

Steve felt his whole face heat with a blush and he looked away. “He’s ridiculous. He likes to brag.”

“I’d brag too.”

“You _were_ just bragging about your husband,” Steve pointed out.

The nurse winked at him and sealed off the old bag. “You just call us if he needs anything, sweetheart.”

Steve threw her a lazy salute before cringing, but she waved him off and left the room. Bucky had settled into the bed at that point and was almost breathing normally again. Steve brushed his hair out of his face and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Just fight for a little bit longer, Buck,” he muttered softly. “You’ve already come so far.”

Bucky huffed out a noise and pressed his face into the pillow. Steve dropped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

 

*  * *

 

Sam started showing up for Bucky’s physical therapy. Bucky didn’t like seeing Steve go on the days Sam was there, but he knew they needed some separation or they were likely to kill each other. One winter break, Bucky and Becca had been stuck in their room together, sick as hell and contagious. They mostly had each other for company and by the time school started up again, they were happy to go back and not see each other for eight hours a day.

Not that Bucky was looking for eight hours to himself. Steve was a whole hell of a lot stronger than him and he made Bucky stronger for it. But, Steve pointed out, he didn’t have to be there when they were repeating exercises. He had an eidetic memory. He knew Bucky’s workout as soon as his trainer said it. Sam, a trained therapist, could help Bucky more during training than Steve could. Besides, Steve had a job, he reminded Bucky. They’d had an argument about it.

And Sam wasn’t the worst. Hell, some days it felt like Sam was the only other person he could trust. Still, Sam was a fucking asshole.

“Just hold the ball, Barnes. There’s a handle, for Chrissake,” Sam said, sprawled on the gym floor next to Bucky while Bucky struggled to get his tenth rep done with a weighted ball. He just had to get the ball to his other hip and then back again. He’d already done it nine damn times. But he was fucking tired and his shoulder ached and he was about to puke with the strain on his abs.

“Come on, man. You’re the soldier they stole? You’re the best America had to offer?” Sam asked. The trainer on Bucky’s other side gaped at them, but Sam didn’t faze Bucky.

“Next time I’ll be sure to tell them to go after your ass instead,” he grunted as he hauled the ball to his bad side. Sam’s hand was gentle on Bucky’s hip as he helped him stay upright.

“Man, you know they already had their eye on my ass. Them, and everyone else who’s been behind me before.”

Bucky scoffed and adjusted his fingers around the medicine ball before yanking it over his body one last time. He fell backwards, knowing Sam wouldn’t actually let him fall, and gasped for air from the ground.

“That was great, Bucky,” the trainer said, pulling the ball away. “Let’s get you some water and we’ll go back to the treadmill.”

Bucky nodded and looked at Sam when the trainer left for water. “Why are you still here, man? Shouldn’t you be with—” The name caught in his throat and Bucky had to look away.

“Nah. Riley went home home after he got released. We figured I’d be stuck here. He went home to fill out paperwork and shit and then went, you know, _home_.”

“He’s from, like, the Midwest, right?” Bucky asked.

Sam nodded. “Indiana.”

“Still, why didn’t you go with him? Visit family.”

Sam’s face screwed up and it was his turn to look away. “It’s not.. I’m not really welcome in his parent’s place.”

Bucky looked pained too. “Shit. Is it because…”

“Because I’m black or a guy?” Sam finished. He let out a deprecating snort. “I imagine it’s because I’m a black guy. Neither one would be acceptable. But mostly the guy thing, I think.” He ran a hand over his head and shrugged. He hooked his arms around his relaxed bent knees. “We’re cordial. We’ll tell each other if anything happens. I’m his emergency contact, but the military contacts them. So, if he’s in a car accident, I tell them. If he dies out here, they’ll tell me. I hope.”

“Good thing you’re always together.”

“For a while we weren’t. We signed up in, what? 2008? We had three or four years to hide it. And you’ve seen us. We’re not very good at it. They split us up after our first tour. We only got put together for the Falcon experiment because we were the best pilots out there. And the Falcon program started in 2013, so they couldn’t keep us apart at that point. They damn sure weren’t happy about it.”

Bucky let out a small groan of support and sat back up. “That sucks, man. I’m glad I was never interested in none of the guys I trained with.”

Sam grimaced again. “Buck...what happened with Brock? We filled out those files for you and didn’t ask questions, but I heard Castle talking to Carter and Fury about something Rumlow said to him. About you.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened and he looked away before standing, using Sam’s shoulder as a brace. Sam held his arm gladiator style and stood as well. “Don’t run from this. From me.”

Bucky took in a deep breath and glanced at his trainer, taking the bottle as he approached. “Can I pee?” he asked, already pulling Sam with him. Once they were out of the gym, Bucky didn’t veer to the bathroom. He leaned against the hallway wall and blindly traced patterns into it at his hip.

“Steve doesn’t know,” he eventually said. “And you can’t tell him. It might come up. You know they’re going to make me stand trial for this. But I don’t want anyone to just tell him.”

“Buck, whatever it is, it’s better he hears it from us than the media.”

“I know. I know. I just...can’t let him know. I can’t bear it.” He tightened his jaw again and Sam ignored the quivering of his chin. “Rumlow and I weren’t ever anything. He caught me watching porn one night. Saw it was gay, you know? Put the pieces together. At first he just wanted me to keep quiet about the stupid shit _he_ was doing. You know, banging girls, going out when we were supposed to be in bed, that shit.

“But then it got worse. And he was so smooth about it. Just wanted a hand job, relieve stress. He’d go down on me and then expect me to the next time. Which was...fine, I guess. I was like that. Easy going, easy and eager to please. That player shit, you know? He’d shove his hand down my pants, grab my ass. And then, you know, it escalated. It’s...it’s hard, you know? It was consensual first, the handies and all. That’s what the board said when I filed the complaint. That we were both in the wrong and if I kept pushing it, I’d be dishonorably discharged. It didn’t matter that the actual...you know, sex was all him.”

Sam had gone pale, could feel the blood drained from his face. Horror gnawed at his stomach and he felt like he was about to be sick. “When did that… How long ago…”

“Basics, man. Into my first squadron. 2008, 2009, I guess.” Bucky shrugged and brought his hand to his mouth to chew on the skin around his nails.

That, Sam could deal with. He slapped Bucky’s hand away and then both of them were collapsing into each other, clinging onto each other tightly. Sam knew Bucky was crying, but he didn’t realize he was too until he went to tuck his face into Bucky’s shoulder and was met with a damp spot.

“No one's ever gonna touch you again, Buck. Swear to God.”

“Think Stevie’s gonna fight you on that,” Bucky laughed wetly.

“Castle should’ve taken longer killing him.”

“You’ve obviously never been burned before. Shit fucking hurts. Just hope he was awake the whole time he was burning.”

“You and me both, man,” Sam muttered before pulling Bucky into his chest again. Bucky felt himself relax, even though he didn’t mean to.

“Thank you, Sam,” he muttered.

“It’s what family’s for,” Sam responded.

Bucky clung to him tighter.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky watched the news with a sick feeling in his stomach—shame and embarrassment and an encompassing depressive failure. But he wasn’t angry. He could hardly blame the media for not being pleased with his return. He’d been the one to fight Steve, even if he was completely unaware of his actions. He was the one who lost Russo. He was the one who got Rumlow half blown up. And then all the things his hands had done. Good people dead because he was careless.

He couldn’t imagine that Castle could even bear to look at him. He couldn’t believe that Steve was sleeping in a chair next to his bed. Rumlow could go fuck himself and break a few ribs doing it.

But the rest of it made Bucky wish Steve had never found him. That those damn Russians really had just left him in the sand to die in the sun.

He knew this news story by heart at this point, so he let his eyes close. “Traitor soldier turns on country and then seeks refuge through the military and service members he betrayed.” He should change the channel. If Steve woke up and saw the reports, he’d get angry all over again. But the familiar words were decent background noise since he didn’t have to pay attention to them to know what was being said.

Then the narrative was different.

“ _An impassioned plea--that some are calling a rant--from the hero of Major Barnes’ rescue surfaced early this morning,_ ” a female newscaster was saying. It cut to a video of Steve standing outside the door to Bucky’s hospital room. He looked awful, worse than Bucky had ever seen him. There were perfect half moon bruises under his eyes and his hair was wild around his head. He brought a hand up to run through his hair and then rubbed his face roughly. How bad did his sleep cycle have to be for the serum not to keep up with it? He was talking but they still had the audio muted.

“ _Not much has come out about Major Barnes’ personal life or his recovery. For his own protection, the location of the hospital he is staying at has been kept under wraps. If possible, we know even less about the man who lead the special ops team to recover Major Barnes. Many are claiming he is none other than Steve Rogers, a participant in the controversial, so-called Super Soldier experiments headed by Stark Industries and Dr. Erskine, winner of 2008’s Nobel Prize in Chemistry._

_“We don’t actually know what happened to any of the participants, but if this is Steve Rogers, I’d say the experiments were successful. Not to mention that unbelievable footage posted online by an unknown source that shows an exploding man at Barnes’ rescue, a man with claws, and both a man and woman taking extensive physical damage without flinching._

_“Some on the internet were quick to suggest this was all part of a super soldier or mutant program, and to count Barnes in among the participants as a way to explain his capture and torture. But the hero’s video would disprove that, if anything. We do want to warn you, some of this footage may be disturbing. Take a look_.”

The video cut back to the beginning of Steve’s loop. Bucky wanted to flinch at the sight of him, but it hurt too much to try.

“ _It’s two in the morning. Buc-- Barnes just went back down after waking up in a frenzy. He has these nightmares. Almost hallucinations. He doesn’t sleep for more than three hours. And that’s if it’s a good night. He’s exhausted all of the time and it’s affecting his body’s ability to heal as well. Which isn’t to say he isn’t healing well. But...it’s a lot. It’s...so much.”_

Steve’s voice cracked and the phone suddenly dropped away from his face as his free hand shot up to his eyes. The phone recorded a side of his jeans and a part of the hallway wall while Steve sniffled above it. Bucky’s heart clenched and he almost turned off the TV. He’d seen Steve cry before. They both had had nightmares and it was hard to wake up from good dreams into a shitty night. Hell, he’d cried watching Disney movies. But it was something to see him cry over Bucky. Bucky didn’t like it.

The camera came back up to Steve’s face. It was red and wet but he’d mostly composed himself and his voice.

“ _I’m not asking anyone to feel sorry for him. God knows he’d strangle me if I did.”_ He let out a wet laugh and coughed a few times. “  _But I’m asking you to stop acting like he’s a petulant child who intentionally put himself in harm’s way. Or, God forbid, that he’s a traitor who staged this so he could come home. How dare you say that about a man who has put himself in danger again and again for you, who has paid the ultimate price in blood and pain, to protect you? You may not know Major Barnes, but I do. And you’re not watching him recover, not because he’s scared or doesn’t want to be found out, but because someone agreed that you the people wouldn’t want to know._

 _“But I’m going to show you anyway. We’re going to put those disgusting, vile rumors to rest.”_ Steve walked into the room, and the camera flipped around so that it was videoing Bucky. He was asleep in the video, chest heaving with struggling breaths. He remembered the night now. He’d woke up with his hand around his own neck. He’d left bruises. They had to put a breathing tube down his throat to open the airways again. Steve must have held onto the video for almost a week before posting it.

“ _Barnes is a Major, but everyone calls him Sarge because he isn’t fond of having positions of power over his troops. He wants to just be one of the guys. Since joining up, he’s just wanted to be a soldier. Not a commander, not a major, not anything special. He wanted to serve and then go to school for engineering or veterinary sciences. He hasn’t decided yet, but he’s leaning to engineering. He builds stuff all the time. His apartment looks like a sci-fi movie.”_

Bucky in the video stirred and Steve reached out to hold the breathing tube in place. “ _Barnes loves to dance. I mean, he will dance to anything. One of his guys snores rhythmically and he could get down to it. Captain Wilson will tell you that Barnes can give him a run for his money, dancing to Beyonce.”_

Video Steve pulled Bucky’s hospital gown down slightly. Bucky braced himself to see the ugly incisions and stitches of the amputation, but Steve only brought it down far enough to expose the star shaped bullet wound in his shoulder. “ _He goes by Sarge because he was a sargeant when he took fire for one of his men at the beginning of his second deployment. He was a member of the Howling Commandos, the team that liberated over 100 women and just as many children from sex trafficking rings. Just in case you forgot that part of Barnes’’ service._

_“He dropped out of his sniper’s perch to take a shot meant for their tank driver. I didn’t believe him the first time he told me. I mean, he was the most secure and hidden guy on that field and he showed his hand so he could save the most armoured guy out there.”_

Steve in the video grinned big and bright. The same way he had when Bucky had told him the story the first time. “ _That’s just who Barnes is.He’d run into traffic to save a pet rock. There’s so much more to him than you’re all giving him credit for. It’s easy to think of soldiers as just one thing. One expendable thing. To categorize us into heroes and traitors, the ones who come home and the ones who don’t. But we’re more than that. We all have lives, people we’re in love with.”_ Now his voice grew soft and, for a minute, Steve’s hand squeezed Bucky’s. It settled video Bucky’s breathing slowly.

“ _Barnes is hurt. Bad. Maybe it isn’t enough to know who he is. I think…”_  He cut himself off roughly and the phone videoed the white sheets of the bed for a while. Eventually he picked up the camera again. “  _Barnes isn’t a spectacle. I shouldn’t be doing this at all. But if you’re all going to point and stare anyway, you should know what you’re condemning.”_

Now he pulled Bucky’s gown aside to show the mottled mess of skin and stitching that his shoulder had become. “ _Before the kidnapping and torture, Barnes’’ spec-ops team’s base was attacked. The group who tortured Barnes first created a diversion by detonating bombs around and on the base._

_“One of Barnes’ men was stuck in the barracks. Barnes ran in to save him, despite the fire and deteriorating structural integrity. He suffered first and second degree burns on the majority of his face and seventy five percent of his arms after he took off his jacket to tamp out flames by and on his soldier. Despite suffering first, second, and third degree burns on ninety-five percent of his body, that soldier is alive and recovering in this hospital too, because Major Barnes didn’t stop when it was hurting him._

_“Upon leaving the barracks, Barnes was attacked by the men who would take him. He fought, because he is a soldier and that is what they do. When the building exploded a few moments later, his left side was completely caught in the blast. Based on records we found at the facility where we rescued Barnes, his arm was completely burnt in some places. The men who had him waited over three weeks to remove the rotting arm and when they did--”_

The camera entirely cut off then for a few seconds. When the visual came back, Steve was outside in the hallway again. His cheeks were wet once more, eyes red and still watering. “ _The removal of Major Barnes’ arm was recorded and recovered in the examination of the facility he was held at. The group who tortured him cut off pieces of Barnes’ arm to see if some sort of drug concoction they were giving him would give him the ability to regrow body parts. They removed each finger, his hand, his arm up to the elbow, and finally his arm at the shoulder. They did this all without giving Barnes anesthesia or pain medication.”_

Steve started crying again in the video, but he kept his head up and his jaw tight, even as his chin dimpled and his lips began quivering.

“ _I’m… I’m going to go back in now and show you the other surgeries he’s had.”_ He took a deep breath and stood up from the crouch he was in against the wall. He walked back into the room and Bucky startled to see his form sitting up in the bed, staring straight at Steve, one hand on the breathing tube.

“ _Woah, big guy. What’s going on here? You with me, Bucky?_  ” The Bucky on the screen stared _through_ Steve, not even flinching as Steve came closer. “  _Come on, lay back down. You’re alright. You’re safe_.” Steve set the phone down so it videoed nothing but there was rustling of sheets and more sweet nothings from Steve. Video Bucky didn’t say anything and real Bucky tried to rack his brain to remember any of this happening. He couldn’t.

Steve picked up the camera and the image came back. “ _He does that. Wakes up in trances. Those are better than the nightmares._  ” He ran a hand through his hair turned the camera on Bucky again. “  _Obviously his arm is our biggest concern. He can’t stand on his own yet. It irritates the hell out of him. His balance is just so bad without the arm that he needs additional support. The skin grafts keep growing over the stitches, and he’s constantly under the knife to remove pieces of stitching thread from his skin._

 _“Because we don’t know what cocktail of drugs he was given, we can’t predict his body’s behavior anymore. Some of the skin grafts take, some of them don’t. Sometimes he heals more than quickly and sometimes…”_ Steve pulled back the blanket to reveal a deep cut on Bucky’s calf. It was wrapped, which wasn’t normally the procedure with his wounds. Since they’d realized he had a healing factor, they’d been leaving a lot of the wounds unwrapped at night to air them out. But the gash on his leg still bled like it was fresh so it had to stay bandaged. Even in the video, there was so much blood that through three gauze wrappers, it was instantly obvious where and how large the gash was. “  _Sometimes they don’t,_ ” Steve finished.

He kept the blanket pulled back and shifted the gown a little bit to show off Bucky’s inner, lower thigh where a lot of the skin grafts from himself had been taken. That, and his ass. And if Steve videoed his ass, there was going to be one less super soldier in the world.

“ _There was so much damage done to his skin that there was almost physically no way all his skin grafts could come from his own body. But the doctors did as much as they could, for as long as they could. I provided the rest of them.”_ He turned the camera back on himself and lifted his shorts leg to show the bandages around his thigh.

Bucky wished he was at home so he could pause the TV. No one had told him. He’d been so in and out of it at first that he never thought to ask, even as they were mandatorily explaining what was going on to him. He’d never thought it’d be Steve being cut open too.

“ _Those were the easy surgeries. He also needs spinal and rib reinforcements. Definitely to be fitted with a prosthetic because of the way the amputation happened and the lack of shoulder joint left to work with. But probably also just so he could stand normally without pitching to one side or putting too much strain on his muscles._

 _“Hey, Buck,”_ Steve muttered in the video, shaking Bucky’s good shoulder lightly. “  _You wanna roll over for me? Just wanna look at your back.”_

Bucky in the video grumbled, but turned over onto his good shoulder. Steve settled the gown over his ribs. There were several dotted lines down his spine, over his ribs, and just above his hips. “ _These are the suggested incision lines just to open him up to do it. They’ll fuse adamantium with the skeletal structure already there. It’s a painful process, and risky._ _Until then, Barnes will probably be in a heavy brace to keep his spine from becoming misaligned. He’s going to hate that. He likes to be free. Likes to move._

_“The PT alone is going to take months. He already wants the prosthetic, which is even more therapy and training. I’m not just...trying to sensationalize this. I’ll leave that to rest of the gossip rags. I just want everyone to know exactly how much he’s given up. How much he’s already paid for what happened. Barnes didn’t turn on his country and he damn sure didn’t turn on his team. There’s a lot more to this incident that we don’t know, and even more that you don’t know. Barnes isn’t a traitor. Trust me, if he could, he’d be back out in the middle of a desert somewhere, fighting for his men and you.”_

Steve in the video fixed his gown and pulled the blanket over Bucky’s shoulder again. He ran his hand through a longer section of video Bucky’s hair and brushed his thumb over video Bucky’s cheek.

Suddenly the TV cut out entirely and Bucky jumped, looking to his side where Steve was blearily sitting up. “Hey, I didn’t hear you wake up. How are you feeling? You want a doctor?” he asked, reaching for Bucky’s hand and squeezing it gently.

Bucky glanced at the TV again. “I didn’t tell you to do that,” he said softly.

“No, I just thought it was the right thing to do,” Steve agreed, rubbing his other hand over his face.

“I didn’t even give you permission. That wasn’t your story to tell,” he muttered. He was exhausted and he could barely keep his eyes open but indignation and embarrassment flared in his chest.

“I know. But they needed to know. You’re...in danger here as long as people think you’re the bad guy.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll be in more danger once Russo decides I’m not distracting enough.”

“That’s not going to happen. We’re gonna find that asshole and lock him up,” Steve promised, holding onto Bucky’s hand tighter. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Bad shit always happens. I think I’m cursed, Steve. The gun shot, the barracks, the torture, my arm. Fucking you.”

“Fucking me or just me with an expletive attached?” Steve asked wryly.

Bucky rolled his eyes and knocked their hands to the bed in an abonishment. “Fucking you might be one of the better things to happen to me, probably.” He closed his eyes and let his breathing even out. “Why lie? Once you knew who I was and shit? Why keep the charade going?”

Steve sighed and Bucky could hear him shift in his seat as if Bucky’s ear was pressed against it. “I wanted out. I wanted a normal life. It’d been so long since they’d called me. All I was doing was training kids, making sure they were safe. I thought Captain America was done. I’d been Commander Rogers for so long that it felt like everyone forget the experiments even happened.”

“Still. Even if it wasn’t current, we talked about our past. I thought we had similar backstories,” Bucky objected.

“We do!” Steve assured, squeezing Bucky’s hand. “Even if the timelines aren’t right, we have similar stories. Similar experiences. I was frozen for sixty years. I experienced the world the same as you. I didn’t live through history. I woke up into it.”

“It just feels weird, Steve. It feels like I don’t know you now. And I know that’s stupid. I felt like I didn’t know you when we first started dating either because I knew there would be stuff I just never knew, or didn’t find out about until later, but this is so big. I...I...wasn’t even picturing your home right, or school, or your ma.”

Steve took in a breath and it failed several times trying to get to his lungs.  “Buck, that’s not ever been the point of us. We aren’t just abstract thoughts and shit. I fell in love with you before I even knew what I was doing. And I know you did the same.”

Of course Bucky felt the same, but Steve had been the one constant he’d been holding onto for so long. He was having to reexamine every part of his life right then and now he had to reexamine Steve too. It wasn’t fair. It was too much to deal with.  Suddenly then, for no good reason, Bucky started laughing, high and maniacal. Steve stared at him in worry.

“Oh my God, oh Jesus. Fuck!” Bucky managed, bringing his hand up to his face. Steve let his hand get pulled along for the ride until Bucky let go of it. “A super soldier, a fucking national hero, has seen me naked. He’s seen my bathroom. My fucking movie collections. Jesus, I watched porn with you. You’re in museums and I’ve drooled on you.”

Steve smiled, but it was weak, strained. “Buck, I’m not just Captain America. I’m Steve. I’ve been Steve for a long time.”

“Yeah, like the whole fucking time you’ve known me,” Bucky agreed. He let out a defeated sound and Steve couldn’t help but mimic it, bringing his hands to his own face.

“Do you want a few minutes, baby? Let you get your thoughts together?”

Bucky nodded numbly and didn’t move his hand to watch Steve leave. He could hear every damn thing clear as day anyway. He laid in the bare room, staring at the ceiling and trying to remember what it felt like when his sister was there, nervously chattering, or when the Commandos all piled in, or Nat and Clint making themselves at home over the end of his bed—“Come on, Barnes, it’s your arm that’s fucked. You can move your legs.”

Really, what was a life without Steve next to him? It had only been a few months, but Bucky was too good at falling hard. It’s why he tried not to fall at all. But there was really no fighting fate on this one. It wasn’t fair when it started with phenomenal sex. But it wasn’t only that. Yes, the sex was great, but, fuck, him and Steve _were_ so similar. The poor kid doing anything to make it. All hot-headedness and stubbornness that was probably going to get them killed, but had also kept them alive this whole time. Being raised by a single mom and being better men, better people for it. Nothing left but found family. The military and the prestige and the hidden life. Everything had been so secret between them while they tried so hard to be open and honest.

And if Bucky was being honest, he wouldn’t have told Steve either, if the roles had been reversed. He knew that. He knew he was going to forgive Steve. He knew that this really wasn’t, compared to everything else in their life at the moment, the worst thing Steve could confess too. Hell, Bucky had halfway waiting for him to say ‘Hail Hydra’ and finish the job. But Steve Rogers was not a Nazi. He was a good soldier and a great man and he was the love of Bucky’s life. There, he said it. Out in the open. He loved Steve. He didn’t want to imagine a world without Steve. Not even a hospital room without him.

But while there was a hospital room without him, Bucky had to turn on the TV again, just to make noise because his thoughts were always too loud.

On the TV, the video of Steve was playing again. It was a different part. Steve had sat himself down against the wall under the window. The moonlight was making him look older, more haggard.

 _“It was Thomas Paine who, in his essay ‘American Crisis,’ proclaimed that ‘These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.’”_ He had a small, heart broken twist to his lips, half a grin with none of the emotion. _“We had to memorize that in school. Seventh year US History. I didn’t understand it when I was a kid. I was sick a lot, but had big ambitions and I didn’t want to believe that anyone would shrink from the service of our country. I tried desperately to serve as a young man, but saw plenty of guys my age slinking out the back door with phony medical excuses and notes from their rich fathers. These same guys who bragged in gym class about how they’d have ended the war years ago if anyone asked. Summer soldiers indeed_

_“Barnes is not a summer soldier. He is far from it. He has given up everything to serve, to continue serving. If such a thing be, he’s a kind of Winter Soldier. He puts his all in when the going gets tough, makes sure things that need to get done get done. He protects his men and fights the good fight, even when people are telling him to fight the wrong one. He, as much as any hero that I know, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman._

_“In that same essay, Paine says that the only things that survive winter are hope and virtue. After the hell Barnes has been through, I have never seen hope and virtue shine brighter. Literally every step he takes is a fight, a victory, and a celebration. He’s come so far in such a short amount of time that it’s astounded his doctors. And he’s only used his recovery to help people. Already, he’s working with the same company trying to get him a prosthetic on making these more accessible to other soldiers. He’s offered to make his records public in case anyone can figure out his healing factor and replicate it to save people in other traumatic situations._

_“Bucky Barnes is more than a good man. And he deserves more than anyone is willing to give him. If I’m the only one voicing my support for him, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not. Because I’m not the only one who can see that none of this adds up. The Barnes they’re trying to show you now is far beyond any side of him that I’ve ever seen. And I think we all need to take a look at who’s portraying him that way, and what they have to gain from him being removed from the narrative.”_

In the video, the sheets rustled and a hand suddenly appeared on Steve’s head, working its way down to his face. “ _Steve_  ?” video Bucky slurred out. “‘ _S late, hon. Come to bed.”_

Steve managed a real grin, staring up at the bed like it’s the only thing in the world. “ _Sure, pal. Just give me half a second._  ” He looked back at the video and gave a small, sad shrug. “  _That’s the Barnes I know. Half asleep, drugged to his eyeballs on pain medication after the painful amputation and therapy of his missing arm, and still worried about whether or not I’m asleep._ ” The video shut off as Steve turned to stand.

Bucky in real life blinked back tears, clutching at his chest. He knew his heart was racing, but mostly because his monitor was beeping angrily at him. Steve came rushing back in at the moment Bucky was trying to get out of bed, half blind with tears. Steve had his arms around Bucky’s waist in a moment, effectively holding him exactly how Bucky wanted and also barring him into the bed.

“Baby, baby, what is it?” he asked, smoothing Bucky’s hair down and checking for threats in the room. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

Bucky shook his head against Steve’s chest, desperately trying to make his one arm fit all the way around Steve’s waist. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just...love you so much and I don’t say it enough. Or ever, but I’m scared. I’m scared all the time now, Steve. And I love you so much. And I’m so bad to you. You don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you,” he whimpered into Steve’s chest.

Steve let out a small breath of a confused laugh. “Doll, don’t apologize for saying you love me. And you’re not bad. You’re not, sugar. Hey, hey, look at me, Buck.” He hooked his knuckle under Bucky’s chin to lift his face and wiped away Bucky’s tears. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I waited almost a century to meet you, Bucky Barnes. And I love you, okay? We deserve each other. We make each other happy. Are things tough right now? Hell yeah. But you’re being so strong, baby. You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re real. So it’s okay that we’re going to get frustrated with each other. As long as we’re willing to remind each other that we're in love too.” He kissed Bucky’s forehead and Bucky immediately shoved his face back into Steve’s chest to hide more tears.

“I love you so much, Stevie. I love you more than I have words for. I love…” He hiccuped on a sob and felt himself lag as the emotional outburst worked its way through his system.

“Bedtime?” Steve suggested, and the asshole sounded amused like Bucky hadn’t just spilled half a year’s worth of the contents of his heart out in front of him.

Still, Bucky nodded and Steve had to climb into the bed with him because Bucky didn’t trust himself to keep it together if he got too far from Steve.

He pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder, and then his jaw when Steve worked himself down the bed. “I love you,” he whispered softly.

Steve kissed his nose. “I know you do, doll. I love you too.”

Bucky nodded and closed his eyes, tucking his head under Steve’s chin to lay on his chest. Steve’s arm went around him and rubbing his back slowly.

“Love you,” Bucky said again.

“Still love you too, Buck.”

Bucky let out a breath and felt more tears come anyway. At least these ones were silent and warm and more of a release than a break.

 

*  * *

 

“Well, Major Barnes, it looks like you’ll be ready to go home in two or three days,” Dr. Cho greeted with a big smile, three days later. Bucky set aside the cup of mash potatoes that he’d been forcing himself to eat and swallowed the wallpaper-paste-like mouthful he already had. “We’re going to keep you for just a few more nights to monitor your readings now that you’re more active. We’ll start getting your release papers ready and contact Mr. Stark for your escort out.”

“Really?” Bucky asked. He knew it had only been three weeks, but it had felt like a lifetime in the hospital and the idea of going home was, at once, comforting and alien.

“Really, really,” Dr. Cho promised. “Over the next few days, we’ll be giving you literature on living at home with a recent disability. Some are normal things like PT trainers and therapists around you, showering etiquette when on your own, kinds of food and exercise that can speed up your healing process. We’ll also include personal recommendations of doctors, trainers, and prosthesis surgeons and sculptors to help you make decisions and answer questions. Of course, your friend, Sam, has included all of the VA information you qualify for.”

She stepped forward and gave Bucky a brief hug. “As much of a pleasure you and your recovery have been, I won’t be sad to see you leave the hospital, Major Barnes. You deserve the world out there. But always feel free to come back to us when you need. My contact information, as well as Dr. Banner’s, and Mr. Stark’s will be within the literature.” Bucky nodded a little numbly and stared at the file she’d handed over. “Let me leave you alone while you come to terms with your close freedom.” She smiled again and ducked out of the room.

It only took Steve a second to be half on the bed, an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “This is great, baby!” he said with a grin as big as his face.

Bucky nodded and leaned into Steve’s side heavily. It didn’t feel real. He was expecting someone to jump out of the bathroom and tell him it was all an elaborate joke.

“Do you think this deserves better food than mash potatoes?” Bucky asked, looking up at Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes. “What does it matter? The only soft food you ever want is French fries and—“

“Don’t say they’re the same thing, Rogers.”

“Mashed potatoes and French fries are almost the exact same thing.”

Bucky groaned and tucked his face into Steve’s shoulder. “Please go get me French fries. Please, please, please. I’m going home. I’m going to have as many chances as I want to get French fries.”

“I’m gonna go get a coke. If I feel like getting you some fries, I’ll think about it.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head and stayed there, both of them content to just be close. Eventually, Bucky began squirming against Steve’s side.

“French fries, please,” he whined softly.

Steve let out a long suffering sigh before getting off the bed and grabbing his wallet and coat. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promised.

Bucky nodded and laid back in the bed, listening to Steve leave. He must have drifted off because right after he heard the door shut, it was opening again. “That was fast. Did you not get—“ Bucky started before the air was suddenly cut off and there was a heavy weight on his neck and chest. He gasped and his eyes flew open, staring up at Russo. He thought it was Russo anyway. Tears were started to obscure his eyesight.

“Hey, Barnes. Thought I’d swing in for a chat.” Yeah, that was Russo. Meaner than Bucky had ever heard him, but Russo. “Hope you don’t mind. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” The pressure on Bucky’s throat increased until he had to reach out and try to fight Russo off. It was a pathetic attempt between the drugs and the balance and the surprise attack. But it seemed to be what Russo was waiting for because he gave a harsh laugh and shoved Bucky further back into the bed before letting go of him.

Bucky gasped in air and his fingers curled against the sheets. “I guess you think you’re some kind of national hero. That fucking walking propaganda ad certainly thinks so.” Bucky couldn’t do anything but shake his head. Of course he fucking didn’t think he was a hero. “Let me cut to the fucking chase, Barnes, because I hear you’ve played this game before. You’re not gonna tell anyone what happened out there. You’re not gonna tell anyone about this. You are going to be as dumb about everything that happened to you out there as you are about everything else in your miserable life.”

Bucky had no idea what Russo was talking about. He assumed ‘played this game’ had something to do with Orange threatening him after he’d been shot and given his award. But he wasn't stupid. Not being stupid is what kept his mouth shut. And what did Russo have to do with any of it. No one had said anything to him about Russo being involved. Just that he was still MIA. Which now made a little more sense. Fuck, Bucky was stupid.

Instead, he managed a hoarse, “Frank,” which only served to get him choked again.

“Don’t you dare fucking say anything to him especially.”

It was enough of an answer for what Bucky wanted to know. Castle wasn’t working with Russo, didn’t have a clue what his best friend was doing. “Does he...even know...you’re alive?” Bucky asked, eyes rolling back as Russo’s fingers tightened around his neck. Still, he caught the hurt look in Russo’s eyes. Enough of an answer again. Russo was fucking over Castle too. Which meant he really was in deep in this shit.

Bucky was desperately losing air and he couldn’t make his arm respond to any command to grab his nurse call button. Had he really survived everything out there only to be killed in a hospital room two days before he got to go home?

“If you say anything to your fucking boyfriend, or any of his powered fucks, you’re gonna live to regret it. But only barely live that long. I’m gonna know every damn thing you say, Barnes. Stay in your fucking place.”

He shoved Bucky back again before he let go. When he straightened, he looked at that medication bag by Bucky’s bed. It had been diluted over the weeks but Bucky was still in too much pain to go without it completely. Even so, when Russo grabbed it and squeezed it, Bucky knew he was in trouble.

He didn’t hear Russo leave. He didn’t hear Steve come back. He barely heard Steve’s exasperated and fond, “Oh, come on. Your fries are gonna be cold when you wake up.”

He wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Steve what had happened, that it wasn’t his fault. He was still drawing in aching breaths, making his throat soar in pain every time. But he was too tired to get loud, to ask Steve for help. He could just go lightheaded and pass out. He hoped Russo wasn’t waiting around to attack Steve too.

 

_*  * *_

 

Despite it being a hospital room, Bucky actually had to have a box to pack away the shit that had ended up in his room. His clothes from home got shoved into a bag and all the silly trinkets and boredom busters from his friends went in the box. The toys from the Howlies and the books Steve and Sam had brought. A Starkpad from Sam. The dumb brain teasers from Nat and pictures of absolutely nothing important from Clint. The gun clip from Frank that made Steve frown when he saw it. And so much food. Bucky couldn’t believe how much food they’d amassed in just three weeks.

Sam had flown out a few days before to meet Riley in New York, both going home together. Everyone kept saying Riley had recovered phenomenally and only had a (as Sam called it) radical scar left to show for any of it. All motion had come back to his arm and his ribs were stitching back together faster than anyone expected. The surgeries on his head were the only danger and they’d all been successful. And Sam assured him he really liked the scar. Still, Bucky didn’t think he could stand to see him. Riley had been one of his closest friends, had gone to bat for him against Rumlow. Had stayed in the desert to look for Bucky when he didn’t need to. Hell, he sent Sam with a sweet message on his phone one day. He was such a good man and Bucky had tried to kill him. He was so fucking thankful everyday that there were no videos of that fight. Bucky wouldn’t be able to recover from seeing it live.

Dum-Dum was helping them, but not in the hospital. He was moving Bucky’s things from his apartment to the new, more disability friendly place Steve had found a week ago. Bucky still wasn’t ready to move into the new place, but it was nice to know he had a home. Steve’s lease was up at the end of the month. They’d wanted a bigger place anyway. Patriot, Dum-Dum and Barton kept telling them via text, loved it.

Bucky still wanted to go to Steve’s place, at least one last time. It was home and he wasn’t sure how much more change he could take at the moment.

When the hospital room finally looked like a hospital room again, Steve grabbed the box and checked Bucky’s cane before heading out the door. Natasha was waiting for them down the hall, spinning car keys on her finger. Stark was lending them a car and that thought alone scared Bucky more than Natasha driving it.

“Romanov,” Steve said, nodding shortly. So what, Bucky thought. She was a spy and not a soldier. Bucky had never really bought her and Barton being soldiers. They just weren’t soldier-y. Maybe it was because he’d known them longer, more intimately than Steve did, but Bucky had already forgiven Nat.

“Rogers,” she greeted. If the smirk on her face was anything to go by, she wasn’t perturbed by Steve’s attempt at hostile civility. “Bucky,” she said, stepping around Steve and going in for a hug, though she decided against it and ending up knocking her shoulder into his instead. It was much for Natasha, Bucky thought.

“Hey, Nat,” he said, knocking into her again. “Do the fuckin’ speed limit when we get out there. The last thing I need is for you to hit someone at a hospital crosswalk.”

“I can honestly drive us places. I have a license,” Steve muttered.

“Alright, Grandpa,” Natasha cooed. “You can do whatever you like once I safely deliver you home. I had your apartment keys remember?” She shook the keys in her hand again. “I left some necessities. Didn’t touch your bedroom. But most of your kitchen and bathroom is packed and ready for Barton to move to the new place. I called movers for the furniture, but left a number for a garbage collection company too. You might think about buying matching sets or something.”

“I like our furniture,” Bucky said and watched Steve warm up at the reminder that they basically shared everything now. “Reminds me of home. Besides, Patriot’s just gonna start eating the corners again. At least this has all the lemon and chili soaked in already.”

Steve laughed and turned to look at Bucky. “You’re ridiculous, you know that right?”

“You literally gave me an asthma attack once when you didn’t tell me there was chili powder all over the couch,” Bucky defended. He let Steve open the car door for him and used his help to get in. It was roomy enough for Bucky to move the can around, but still sleek on the outside. Bucky didn’t even know cars like that existed.

Mostly eh drive home consisted of Steve fussing over bandages and Bucky’s leg and whether he was getting too overwhelmed being out again. Bucky was certainly getting overwhelmed, but he wasn’t about to actually admit that. Once they were in the apartment, it would be better.

Except, as Natasha pulled up to Steve’s parking spot next to his bike, Bucky realized getting to the apartment was going to be an issue.

“How did they know we were coming here?” Steve asked. “How did my address get out?”

Natasha shrugged and surveyed the crowd around the door. “They didn’t know you’d be here. They’ve been staked out at Bucky’s for weeks and showed up at the tower a few days ago. Welcome to the the age of internet doxxing, Captain America,” she muttered, sliding out of the car and pulling sunglasses on. She wrapped her hair in a tight bun and shifted her jacket so it sat tucked behind her gun.

“Alianovna Bartovich, FBI,” she called, flashing a badge to the crowd. “If you do not remove yourself from in front of the door, I will arrest every single one of you. And I will not do it gently.”

“Hey, sweetheart, you can handcuff me roughly any day,” a man said. Bucky could see Natasha sigh and then pull her gun out. He turned back around in the seat quickly, squeezing his eyes shut.

“She’s gonna kill someone in our parking garage,” he groaned.

He looked back at the group, significantly reduced now. Then Steve was getting out of the car, all six foot five inches two hundred seventy pounds of him. “She said move,” he barked. It was meaner than Bucky had ever heard from him. “Or you’re gonna see a lot more super soldiers in this parking lot and the law does not care to deal with us.”

Bucky brought his hand up to his face. Why was this life? Why were these his people? This was something Frank fucking Castle would do.

“Come on, big guy, let’s get you out,” Steve said, suddenly next to Bucky and pulling the cane free as Bucky unbuckled himself.

“You can’t just threaten people like that Steve.”

Steve shrugged. “TEchnically the government thinks I’m dead. If I can’t vote, they can’t arrest me.”

“You don’t vote?” Bucky asked, half out of the car. He ended up falling the rest of the half but that wasn’t the important part.

Steve shrugged. “I have one. It’s just not my birth year. It matches my biological age.”

“You vote illegally?” That was possibly worse.

“The government is the one that assigned it to me!” Steve argued. “Why are we arguing about this in the parking garage?”

“Voting is important! It’s your civic duty.”

Steve snorted. “I think we’ve both more than paid our civic duty.”

And, yeah, alright, maybe that was fair. “Let’s just get upstairs. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you light headed? What is it?” Steve asked, suddenly full of concern, all joking aside.

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s just, you know, a lot of things happened today. Let’s get upstairs.”

Steve nodded and grabbed the box of things, helping Bucky up to the elevator and into the apartment. They said  goodbye to Natasha after she did a search for bugs and intruders.

Bucky slept on and off over the afternoon, only really waking up when Patriot got brought home and attacked him with all of the fur and kisses the excited thing could manage. He helped Steve make dinner, which mostly involved making sure Steve didn’t burn anything or use expired products.

They went to bed together, Steve holding onto Bucky so tightly that Bucky could almost feel Steve’s ribs against his back. Still, by midnight, Steve woke up in a bed alone. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and went to investigate. Bucky wasn’t on the balcony and the light was off in the kitchen.

Steve found him on the couch, half obscured by Patriot like old times. Patriot still lifted his head, thumped his tail twice and then hid his face between Bucky’s shoulder and the couch again.

“This is still a betrayal,” Steve yawned, pointing at the dog. “I’m still the one who feeds you.” He went back to his room and pulled his pillow from the bed before coming back to the living room. He grabbed the second throw from the couch and laid down on the ground. “But I’m gonna let it slide for a few months, ‘cause I think he needs you more than me.”

Patriot let out a huff that said he didn’t agree with Steve’s timeline.

 

*  * *

 

He got served his court order the fourth day he was out of the hospital. It was a Tuesday. He’d been awake for almost four weeks at that point, but it had been almost a month and a half since he’d been pulled from the hell hole, and three months since he’d been taken in the first place.

It was a young military officer who delivered it. He had a friend with him. Bucky knew it was standard practice to send two out at a time, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly like it was because they thought he was a danger.

“Major Barnes,” he man said, hat under his arm like a picture. He handed over the letter and nodded at Bucky. He hesitated as he turned. “It’s an honor, sir. To serve with a hero like you and get you back on our soil.”

Bucky worked his lip between his teeth before he nodded. “Likewise, soldier.” He was in sweats and a shirt he’d sweated through the night before, but he managed to straighten himself up enough to give a proper salute. He let the kid complement it. “You be good out there.”

The kid nodded and turned. Bucky caught them jostling each other when they reached their vehicle but shut the door before they could turn around and see.

He leaned against the door, holding the letter against his chest as he slid to the floor, tears streaming down his face almost immediately. He could tell when he took too long to get back upstairs because Steve appeared, looking sleep fluffed still, though he grew solemn as he saw Bucky on the ground. He didn’t say anything as he sat by Bucky, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Bucky cried himself into exhaustion. Hell, he was always exhausted. There was never a time he didn’t want to be asleep anymore. Well, he supposed all the fucking times he fell asleep and immediately fell full force into nightmares. Still, he wiped his face and handed the letter off to Steve before standing. “Let’s have Sam over tonight. Tell him to bring beer.”

“You…” Steve started before cutting himself off.

“I know I can’t get drunk. But it makes me feel normal.”

Steve nodded and hummed an assent softly. He pulled out his phone to text Sam and looked up. “You want Riley?”

A stab of guilt and shame still wracked itself through Bucky’s soul when he thought of Riley and he didn’t think he could handle SamAndRiley. He didn’t think he could even really handle BuckyAndSteve right then. He shook his head. “Just Sam, please.”

“Sure, I think Riley was meeting up with some of his friends tonight anyway. Sam wanted to do something. Didn’t realize we’d only just gotten back.”

Bucky nodded and didn’t really pay attention. His heart ached and he felt like he was drowning in darkness, despite it being sunny and bright just outside, pouring in through the windows. He sat down heavily on the couch and shook his head again. “You should’ve gone out with him. I can stay home by myself for a few hours,” he muttered.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean that I want to leave you alone. I just got my best guy back into my best apartment.” Steve sat down next to him and pressed kisses over his good shoulder. “Sam says he’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” he added with a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, wet and exaggerated and just funny and gross enough to have Bucky scowling and leaning over to wipe his cheek on Steve’s shirt.

“Fifteen minutes is enough time for a nap,” Bucky said, keeping his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“If you want, baby,” Steve agreed and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders to hold him close. Bucky didn’t sleep, but he enjoyed the quiet and the warmth and Steve’s steady heartbeat. When Sam arrived fifteen minutes later, he had pizza and an armful of beer.

He scattered his treasure over the coffee table, kicking Steve’s feet out of the way. “I know you like fuckin’ pineapple but I was not gonna pay for a whole pizza with that monstrosity, so half of that one is pineapple and ham and the other side is just ham. But I did bring an extra container of fried pineapple that they gave me.”

He threw the small plastic cup at Bucky, who caught it with a slight thrill. He’d been slowly getting his dexterity back. He still had a habit of dropping things when his body noticed the weight disparity. But he caught this fucking cup and that was all that mattered.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know fine cuisine when you see it,” he said, leaning forward for a slice. He wasn’t sure that half a pizza was going to do it for him. He’d been eating like crazy. Half to recover from the liquid diet still, and half because he was just always hungry. He could finish half a pizza on his own way back when. But Sam had brought three other pizzas and a handful of snacks. He’d always been the best at food runs.

“You wanna throw something on TV?” Sam asked. “There’s a whole shit ton of new stuff on Netflix. I get kinda overwhelmed when I get back from deployments ‘cause there’s so much to watch and catch up on. What’s that shitty sci-fi show you like?”

“It’s not shitty. It’s a classic, you bastard,” Bucky said, throwing a piece of fallen pineapple at the back of Sam’s head. “Fuckin’ Twilight Zone, man. I can’t believe you never remember it.”

“How ‘bout we watch Black Mirror instead,” Sam suggested. “Same thing. New era.”

“Not hardly. And it might scare our geriatric away from technology,” Bucky said with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Steve answered with a laugh. He wasn’t holding himself as tightly as he normally did when Bucky brought up the super soldier shit. Sam relaxed both of them. It was a Goddamn relief after the past few days of stress and tried patiences.

“Only once Sam leaves,” Bucky promised. It wasn’t completely true. Bucky hadn’t wanted sex yet, after all this time. But...

“God, y’all are gross.” It got the reaction he wanted from Sam.

“Yeah, welcome to life with you and Riley,” Steve laughed.

Sam looked over his shoulder to make a face at Steve before pulling up Bucky’s Netflix and finding Black Mirror. He shifted to sit with his back against the couch and Bucky hooked his legs over his shoulders. It only took half an episode for Sam’s head to lay against Bucky’s knee. It felt weird when he tipped his head back to take a drink from his beer but it meant he was close and Sam was as close to normal as Bucky had anymore.

Before the end of the third episode, Steve was laying across Bucky’s lap, scratching his nails through Sam’s hair. Bucky combed his fingers through Steve’s hair too and refused to let himself get frustrated that he couldn’t rub Steve’s back or chest at the same time, the way he knew Steve liked. Or pull Sam’s ear until he shouted at Bucky, which was always a decent alternative to making Steve feel good. For the first time in weeks, Steve’s hair was clean and every stroke of Bucky’s fingers sent up another burst of his manly-manly-manly shampoo smell. It was enough to make Bucky relax into the couch.

Then, before the season finished, all three of them were sprawled half on and half off of the couch, snoring together and impossibly tangled together.

 

*  * *

 

Sam thought he might be more used to Steve’s apartment than his and Riley’s. Most of the time if he was home alone, he had been with Steve. And even when Riley was home, they tended to crash at Steve’s anyway. So, navigating to the kitchen half blind with morning bleariness and a light headache was easy. He started coffee in Steve’s ancient pot—things like that were starting to make more sense now—and leaned against the sink as he let awakeness overtake him. His limbs ached from the weird positions he kept ending up in. Even when he’d woken up and moved to lay on the floor, Bucky ended up under him later and then, later, he woke up with his head propped up on Steve’s leg at a harsh angle after Steve passed out with his body on the ground and his leg on the couch.

The pot was halfway done, enough that Sam could steal half a cup here and there, when Steve appeared in the doorway, looking just as messy as Sam felt. “Godsend,” he muttered, taking the mug from Sam’s hands directly.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Sam warned even as he let Steve take the mug. “Sleep well?”

Steve snorted. “I’ve barely slept in a month. I thought it would be easier here. It’s home, you know? But I just keep waking up every fifteen minutes to check on him.”

Sam grimaced in sympathy. “How was he?”

“Good. Slept on you a lot. I kept trying to move him back to the couch and then I’d wake up and you two would be under the same blanket again.”

“Told you I’m hotter than you,” Sam joked because it was easier to joke than try to therapize the two of them. Especially without his coffee.

Steve gave him a smile. “You help him a lot. Feels like you’re the only one not using kiddie gloves around him. I wish his Howlies coulda stayed for longer than they did. He’s so much happier with them.”

Sam stepped forward to rub Steve’s shoulder. “He’ll get through this. Even if his friends are scattered right now. They don’t seem like the kind to stay away for too long. And he’s comfortable asking them for help.”

Steve nodded and rubbed his cheek on his shoulder in an aborted move to wipe away tears that weren’t there. It was a move Sam knew well. He glanced back towards the living room and then at Steve. “When he asked for me over, did he specifically ask for Riles to stay back?”

Steve made a face, somewhere between hurt and a lie before he deflated and just nodded. “He still blames himself for his crash. He can’t even hear his name without freezing up.”

Sam grimaced again. “Well, let me know when he gets over it. Riley likes him and he wants Bucky to know it’s okay. That he doesn’t blame him. Besides, Stark upgraded our packs after Riley’s got destroyed, so neither of us are complaining.” He smiled and squeezed Steve’s arm again.

“I just want him to know that too,” Steve sighed. He reached down to squeeze Sam’s hand before handing the mug back. “I’m gonna see if he wants to shower and then I’m going to regardless of his answer.”

“Y’all are still disgusting,” Sam sang after his back. He took his mug and filled it properly before letting himself out onto Steve’s beautiful balcony. It was early enough that the sun was still peaking out over the buildings, half hidden in the skyline. Sam tilted his face into the breeze and leaned his head against the wall. Brooklyn definitely wasn’t Harlem, didn’t have the same smells and sounds that made home home, but Sam thought he could get behind this.

A few minutes later, the balcony door opened again and Sam cracked open an eye to find Bucky leaning on the railing, one forearm and his cane braced on the topmost bar.

“You denied a chance to shower with Rogers?” Sam asked with a snort.

“If you’d like to join him, shower’s only half full,” Bucky responded drily.

Sam pretended to gag and shook his head. “No thanks, man. He’s all yours. I coulda put the moves on him years ago if I’d wanted to.”

“And instead you stuck with your high school sweetheart,” Bucky drawled in a fauxly sweet voice.

“Trust me, Riles wasn’t no sweetheart in high school.”

Bucky hummed next to him but didn’t say anything. When Sam glanced over, Bucky was staring at the city, but his face was soft and relaxed. Far beyond anything Sam had seen since Bucky had come out of the coma finally.

“You don’t know any good lawyers, do you?” Bucky finally asked.

Sam cringed. Steve had explained what had happened and Fury had already approached him and Riley a week ago about testifying on behalf of Bucky at the eventual trial. “It’s all bullshit, man,” he sighed.

“Is Riley going to testify against me? I don’t blame him. I think he should.”

“What? No, man. He’s not. Not in a million years. Look, you focus on getting better, and we’ll focus on what we need to.” Bucky sounded so small and distant and resigned that Sam’s heart choked out his throat. He turned his attention back to the street below them and then snorted. “Ten dollars says that if you jumped off the balcony, you couldn’t land in the dumpsters,” he offered.

Bucky looked down too and shoved a hand through his hair to hold it on the top of his head, out of his face. He hummed and glanced around the street, before looking to the next building. “I wouldn’t want to land in the dumpster. That mattress though,”  he said, nodding to a dilapidated thing a few feet over. “I’d jump onto that.”

Sam made a face, but couldn’t help but agree. That was probably better than landing in garbage. It’d be their luck that one of them would get stabbed through and through by something lurking in the gross ass bin.

The door to the balcony opened again and then Steve was stepping out with them, coffee in his hands. He passed one mug over to Bucky and kissed his hair when Bucky leaned into his chest.

"Good morning handsome men. And Sam," he greeted, throwing Sam a shit eating grin.

"I hate you," Sam sighed, trying to sneakily work Steve's coffee out of his hands.

"What're you two gossiping about out here?" Steve asked, working a hand up and down Bucky's back.

"Your flat ass," Sam said without missing a beat. Bucky pressed himself closer into Steve's chest and tucked his nose under Steve's collarbone. It was so soft, Sam wanted to be sick.

"Liar," Steve laughed, shaking his head. He pressed another absent kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. "I know Buck's a big fan of my ass."

"Doesn't mean it isn't flat," Bucky mumbled and Sam crowed triumphantly.

"You're both the worst," Steve sighed. He squeezed Bucky's hip and Bucky looked up at him without either of them having to say a word. Sam looked away.

“I was going to head into Stark Tower to do some debriefing with Carter and Fury. Do you two wanna stay here or come with?” Steve asked, though it was obvious that he was only interested in Bucky’s reply. Sam didn’t mind being the baby sitter. He thought it was a little unfair to Barnes but Barnes had asked for him over on his own, anyway. Sam trusted both of them to know what Bucky needed more than he did. If, after everything he’d gone through, Bucky just wanted a friendly face to sit at home with, Sam would be damned if he didn’t give it to him.

“I think I want to stay here. The cameras and paps sitting around the Tower aren’t going to be any good for my sanity,” Bucky muttered. And Bucky knew Steve probably wanted to see how well Bucky could do without Steve right by his side. Not that Bucky thought his second day back home was a particularly good time to test it, but whatever. Sam was there. He’d be fine.

Sam was also privy to Steve’s play, and he also didn’t think that this was the best time to start branching out, but he shrugged. “Sure, man. Every meal I get at your place is an extra meal still left at my place.”

Steve rolled his eyes but there was relief in his grin. “I don’t know why I keep the two of you around. Never wanna be with me.”

“Not in public we don’t, Mr. Superhero,” Sam agreed. Bucky snorted next to him and brought his coffee up to his face.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby. Waiting right where you left me,” he purred, hiding a pleased grin behind his mug. Even Sam was a little turned on and Steve was seven shades of red. Still, Sam thought he saw how thin the act was, how much it took out of Bucky to joke around and be seductive like nothing had happened. Sam knew plenty of guys who lost all of their mojo after coming back, after losing limbs. He knew Bucky’s whole image of himself was probably as skewed as his gait at that point.

But Bucky was looking a little better as Steve sputtered in front of them. Which, true love, Sam guessed, because embarrassing each other was the best cure when him and Riley were were in bad head spaces too.

“Right, well, I have to get to Tony’s. The Tower, I mean. I’ll be home. Tonight. Sooner. I don’t know. Um. Bye, doll,” Steve finally got out, leaning forward to kiss Bucky’s cheek. Just the simple gesture caught him, though, and he had to steal a kiss from the corner of his lips, and then from properly on the mouth. They were so in love, it blew Sam’s mind sometimes. “I’ll pick up dinner on my way back?” Steve asked, just to stay close to Bucky.

Bucky smiled softly, real and genuine and nothing like the teasing act previously. “Actually, I think Sam volunteered to make some of those chicken and dumplin’s he’s always talkin’ ‘bout,” he murmured without consulting Sam. “You know, as a favor for eatin’ us outta house and home.”

Steve grinned like it was the best news of his life. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You better be. I’ll text you if anything comes up.” Bucky leaned up to kiss Steve again before pushing him towards the door. “Go, don’t keep them waiting.”

“God, it’s so much easier to stay with you, though. Baby, you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You flatterer, get outta here before you scare Sam off,” Bucky laughed softly. Steve gave a lazy two finger salute before ducking into the apartment and then leaving shortly after.

Bucky stared at Sam for a second longer before slumping against the railing like every string holding him up at been cut at once. Sam sighed and took the mug from his loose grip.

“You were out of it, but after Riley crashed from the air, he crashed mentally too,” Sam offered.

Bucky flinched like he’d been struck, but Sam pushed on. “He was nonverbal with everyone except his doctors and nurses. Even then, it was only short, quick answers. He didn’t even want to hold my hand.”

“I’d freak out if I was shot down by friendly fire too, Bucky agreed.

Sam made a scoffing noise, clicking his tongue lightly. “It wasn’t that. We’ve been in bad situations before. It was the same reaction he had when we…” Suddenly Sam’s jaw tightened and he looked away. He only caught Bucky’s quick glance at him from the corner of his eye. “We were evacuating a school and Riley had this little boy in his arms and those bastards shot at the kid as Riley was flying away.

“Riley wasn’t  _betrayed_ after the crash. He felt like a failure. He thought he’d be able to save you too. To get you back to Steve, to finish the mission from earlier, but he didn’t. And he was pissed at himself. There was so much self hatred, even when we told him you’d been rescued and recovered. He over analyzed every decision he made until he decided there was no way it wasn’t his fault.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, and you know I don’t therapize friends, so I don’t want to know. But I think you should know that you’re not alone, Buck. Whatever you’re going through, you’re not the first soldier who’s had to, alright.”

Bucky shook his head and brought his hand up to his cheek. “What I did… I betrayed the country. I betrayed the reason I signed up. So what, Riley can’t save them all? At least he was trying. I was the one shooting them.”

“No, no way, Bucky,” Sam scolded. “You didn’t do anything like that.”

“I killed the peace leaders. I killed people trying to make the world better. Maybe it’s not kids, but it could’ve been. And all the kids who die in violence that my victims could’ve prevented, that’s on me too.”

“No it isn’t, Barnes. It’s not. There’s bad in the world and no one person can change that one way or the other. There will always be bad and good. And you fought your damn way back to who you were. You were Bucky Barnes on that table. You were Bucky Barnes when Castle found you.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head before walking back into the apartment. Sam followed and the AC was more than welcome on his skin after that conversation. “They’re going to lock me in a jail cell. Probably the Ice Box. Or that raft.”

Just the name made Sam’s stomach turn over. The Raft was the worst kept secret in the military judicial system. It should only be housing super-people, but with the Ice Box so niche, the Raft got to expand its interests.

“We’re not gonna let you go to prison. You know Steve would bodily carry you into a country that doesn’t extradite.”

Bucky shook his head again and sat at the dining table. “It won’t end. Rumlow, Russo, they won’t stop. Russo especially.”

“No one’s seen him for weeks, Buck. Not even a whisper from him. He’s gone. His game failed and he went to lick wounds.”

“No he isn’t. He was at the hospital. He tried to kill me. He’s still out there. Still pulling strings.”

Sam blanched as he sat down opposite of Bucky. “He was at the hospital? When?” There’d been a constant stream of people in and out of that room. Steve was almost always there. Sam was there too much.

“Two weeks in. Right before they cleared me for release. It had been me and Steve, and he got up to go pee and then Russo was in my room. He was out before Steve got back.”

“You never told anyone.” If Steve knew, him and Sam would’ve found the bastard by now. Or Steve would’ve at least told him about it.

“He told me not to. He said everyone was listening to me and if I wanted to keep what I had left, I had to keep my mouth shut.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “And now he could be anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed with a nod. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. That much was plain to Sam. But, more than that, it looked like he’d stopped fighting. Sam hadn’t ever seen Barnes look anything less than ready for a fight and now he looked like keeping his eyes open was a feat he didn’t want to struggle with.

“Look, man, we’ve all got our demons, okay? But even angels needed help defeating the little bastards, so don’t you go trynna do this on your own, okay?” Sam insisted. Bucky scoffed but nodded.

“You’re here, aren’t you? I know what I need. I’m getting used to asking for it.”

“Well, keep it up even once you start thinking you’re healin’ and shit. Recovery doesn’t mean you have to shed off your support system. It’s there for a reason. I know it’s hard to have to lean on people for things, but, trust me, man, it’s a lot easier with your people there.”

Bucky nodded and leaned forward to grab his mug back from Sam. Sam let them fall into a silence that he couldn’t call easy or tense. Which might just be a win for them at that point.

The silence was interrupted by a polite knock on the door that had both Sam and Bucky looking up to see who could be calling at this hour, right after Steve left. Hell, _because_ Steve just left Bucky thought it might be a set up. Who knew what kind of freaks were waiting out there to attack Captain America and the people closest to him. And after the conversation about Russo, Bucky was on edge. But that was an awfully polite knock and Bucky didn't think super evil beings who wanted to kill Captain America or the nation’s traitor would knock quite so gently.

“Let me get it,” Sam said quickly, already out of his seat and heading for the door.

“I think I can answer the fucking mail man,” Bucky snapped back, following after him.

Sam whirled on him and Bucky crashed into his chest, knocking Sam’s ankle a little too hard with his cane as he tried to keep himself upright. “We don’t know who’s outside that door. Just...stay here, alright? The last thing I need is to listen to Steve bitch about how you got hurt when I was here with you. You’re such a shit, you’d probably say I did it to you.”

“I promise I won’t tell Steve you blew a hole in my chest if it comes to that. Let me answer my door,” Bucky said, but he was off balance and Sam was stronger at that point and Bucky let himself be corralled behind Sam as he pulled the door open.

When they saw who was standing on the welcome mat, both soldiers snapped to attention. Sam held the door wider and Sam and Bucky stepped aside, hands up at their heads like they were in the middle of training.

“At ease, soldiers,” Colonel Rhodes laughed. “God, don’t do that while I’m barging into your home.” He let himself in anyway and Sam shut the door after him.

“Please,” Bucky said, gesturing with his good arm. “Sit. Would you like some coffee. It was just made.”

“I’m alright, Major Barnes, thank you.” He sat on Steve’s arm chair and Bucky and Sam slowly sat themselves on the couch, still a little awe-struck.

“Colonel Rhodes,” Sam began. It sounded like he was a little out of breath. “It’s such an honor. I can’t believe… You’re the reason our program exists. You’re the biggest hero our country has…”

“That’s enough, Captain Wilson. I’m hardly the military’s biggest hero. I just do my job. And I think Tony might be more responsible for your unit than me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not even Air Force and I know that the Falcon program was commissioned after watching your work with the Iron Patriot suit. You’re an actual superhero. You’re amazing. I know guys who signed up because of you.”

“Now you’re just making me feel old,” Colonel Rhodes laughed. He ran a hand over his buzzed head and then smiled up at Sam and Bucky. “Is Captain Rogers here as well?”

“You just missed him, actually. He’s gone to see your best friend.”

“I told Tony I wanted to talk to him! He always does this.”

Sam and Bucky both fought down smiles, but when they caught each other’s eye, they couldn’t help it. “Guess we’re destined to be dysfunctional no matter how famous we get,” Sam told him.

“You and Riley are the dysfunctional ones. I’m fine,” Bucky objected.

“You are so far from fine, you’re not even playing the same sport.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors, sweetheart.”

Colonel Rhodes coughed off to the side, but he was still smiling when they looked back at him. “I actually came because I know your court order came in the other day.”

Bucky flinched again, but nodded. He pulled a pillow to his lap to pick at instead of looking at Colonel Rhodes.

“I think it’s bullshit, Major. We all go through things out there. You held up far better than anyone else I can think of. I know this isn’t the kind of thing you want to hear right now, but there’s a reason they’re trying to put you on trial and it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the real traitors in your unit, and the accounts these assholes are filling their pockets out of.”

That was enough to get Bucky to look up at. “You think it’s a conspiracy?”

“I think powers that be want a scapegoat that isn’t close to them, or their checkbooks.”

Sam scowled and Bucky could practically hear it. “Fucking bureaucracy,” he muttered.

“It’s not bureaucracy. It’s corruption. You’re not alone in this, Barnes.  There’s a team out there looking for Russo and keeping an eye on other things happening with your unit.”

“Rumlow?” Bucky ventured and made Sam stiffen again.

“Primarily.” Colonel Rhodes paused and looked at Bucky evenly. “What happened in basics, they’ll bring that up in the trial.”

“How can they? No one ever made a file of it. It never went anywhere,” Bucky argued. His cheeks were redder than Sam had ever seen them and it made Sam’s stomach turn over.He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know the bad blood.

“They’re going to use everything against you to distract from what’s happening on their end. They’ll flay open your relationship with Captain Rogers, and any indiscretion they can get their hands on.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sam objected. “That’s not relevant to any of this.”

Colonel Rhodes sighed, and nodded along with Sam. “I know. But they’ll say it was all a cover up. That’s why Captain Rogers was sent to find you, why he ran the rescue op.”

Sam hadn’t noticed Bucky drawing in on himself until he was suddenly standing up and stalking away. It was impressive he still managed to stalk while using his cane around all of the blankets and clothes and take out left over from the night before.

“I don’t care what they do,” he finally said. His voice was as even as Sam had ever heard it. “I need to go on trial. The country deserves to see the military try to punish me. If not me, who else gets to do what I did? Do something worse and use the same excuse? The military, the judicial system, the people need to see what really happened. I can’t let someone do something terrible and get away with it because no one knows what my case looked like.”

He turned to face them, jaw tight, face brave. Sam felt a swell of pride in his chest. Steve sure knew how to fuckin’ choose them.

Colonel Rhodes must’ve seen it too because Sam saw his face soften. “You have the support of everyone who matters in the military, Barnes,” he assured, standing and crossing to Bucky. He clapped a hand on Bucky’s could shoulder. “If you need anything at all, call me or Tony. We’ll be there.”

Bucky gave a weak grin. “Thank you, sir. Really, it’s an honor you even know my name. I think you just need to say it to clear me,” he joked.

Colonel Rhodes laughed and shook his head. “You two really think I’m more important than I am. It does wonders for the ego. No wonder Tony always walks like he’s got a royal cape floating behind him.”

Sam snorted behind them and then immediately got flooded with so much embarrassment he thought he was going to barf.

“I have to go find that idiot, so you’ll have to excuse me for barging in. But, really, Barnes, call me if you need anything. I have access to a lot.” He winked before letting himself back to the door. Sam and Bucky tripped over each other to open it for him and they both stood in the door until he was out of sight.

“Holy shit?” Sam breathed once the door was securely shut.

“What the fuck?” Bucky agreed before both were grinning and laughing. “Oh my God, you looked like you saw a celebrity,” he laughed, knocking his hand into Sam’s chest.

“Me? Your eyes were so big I coulda put a plate over your face and still woulda seen them.”

“I mean...he’s a legend, right?”

“Oh, thank God we didn’t say that to him. Can you imagine?”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky sighed, collapsing onto the couch. Patriot had awoken with all of the noise and now crawled into his lap to nap some more, thought he kept getting excited with their laughter.

“I think you’re gonna be just fine in this trial, Barnes.”

“Fuck, if I saw Colonel Rhodes walk into a courtroom in defense of something and I was the plaintiff? I would just fuckin’ leave.”

“You and me both, man,” Sam agreed with a nod.

Bucky smiled to himself, leaning into Sam’s side. Maybe he would be okay.

 

*  * *

 

It only took two days for the peace Bucky had found to erupt in an unholy cacophony of banging on the front door and Bucky hit the floor before he realized it was two sets of frantic knocking. He let himself stay down because sometimes that was just the best option. And Patriot was standing over him, licking his neck. But the knocking wasn’t easing up and he could hear arguing out in the hall. So, Bucky dragged himself off the floor and patted Patriot’s head as he continued to lick at any bare skin he could get at.

When Bucky tugged the door open, Castle and Barton both fell through it. They shoved each other around until they got their feet under them.

“Don’t fucking listen to anything he has to say!” Barton shouted, reaching forward to grab Bucky’s arm. He let go when Patriot let out a warning growl. But Barton was so damn good with dogs that it only took him a second to have the lab calmed down again.

“Will you shut the fuck up, Barton?” Castle growled.

“I know a lawyer!” Barton added, squatted down in front of Patriot.

“I imagine you do. You’re always in a jail cell,” Bucky agreed.

“He’s a guy from the Kitchen. Best damn lawyer you’re gonna find, Barnes,” Castle said. Bucky cut a look at him and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you two teaming up to help me?”

“Fuck no,” Barton denied quickly. “I wouldn’t team up with this guy if my life depended on it. He needs to be put in solitary somewhere.”

“I don’t work with clowns,” Castle added with a glare at Barton. “Pat, come here,” he ordered, and Patriot trotted right out of Barton’s arms to curl around Castle’s legs.

Barton pouted for a second before glancing at Bucky. “His name’s Matt Murdock. He’s...used to dealing with superheroes.”

“Super fuck ups,” Castle corrected. “He’s been Barton’s lawyer before.”

“He kept Castle out of jail after he stabbed that guy’s eye out.”

“You went to trial for that?” Bucky asked, looking at Castle. “Why didn’t you call me as a witness?”

Castle shrugged and Barton answered, “Because Murdock doesn’t need any extra help. He’s just that good.”

Bucky didn’t believe anyone could be ‘just that good’ when it came to keeping Castle out of jail. Or Barton for that matter.

“Give me his information,” Bucky sighed.

“Sure,” Castle said. “His number is 646-555-2015. The address is—“

“Oh my God, dude,” Barton groaned, thrusting out a Stark-pad. “What century are you from? All of the information is on this, including the address, office numbers, cell numbers, his biography and record, and information on his associates.”

Castle glared at Barton before glancing back at Bucky. “He’s good people, alright? He’s the one who’s gonna keep you out of a military prison.”

Bucky chewed on his lower lip before nodding. “Fine. I’ll give him a call.”

“Uh, probably don’t want to do that,” Clint said.

“His phone tends to be cut off.” Castle shrugged. “He’ll blame it on me. It ain’t my fault. He gets paid for covering my ass.”

“Bet he knows all about covering your ass.”

Castle fixed a dead stare on Clint until the sharp shooter was shifting in his spot and looking around, anywhere but at Castle. “I’d kill you in your sleep and no one would find your body.”

“Romanov would. And then no one would find yours,” Bucky said, waving a hand off to the side as he read over the information on the pad.

Clint crowed in triumph, even as he darted to Bucky’s other side to put distance between him and Castle. Patriot, who had been napping between them, suddenly sat up and looked as conflicted as a dog could look, glancing between Castle and Barton until he elected to lay over Bucky’s feet instead.

Barton and Castle both fell silent, but Bucky could feel them staring at him as his eyes skimmed over the information he’d already memorized. Finally, he sighed and looked up. “Do you want something else?”

“Just waiting for you to finally keel over,” Castle scoffed.

“You alright. man? I mean, you’re cooped up here all by yourself. Do you want to get a beer? That’s what Castle really wanted to say. He wants you to go out with us to a dive bar, get into a fight, drink cheap, mostly watered down alcohol.”

“Speak for yourself, birdbrain.” Castle crossed his arms over his chest but he wasn’t moving or leaving.

“Steve’ll be home in a few hours. You can’t have me for longer than that,” Bucky sighed, setting the card down and grabbing a jacket.

Clint did a backwards fist pump and Bucky caught Castle’s small grin as he wrangled both men out the door. It wasn’t the first time Bucky was going out. Him and Sam and Steve had been out a few times and the Howlies stopped by for lunch dates if they could, but going out with Clint and Castle was bound to be a lot rougher than going out with the Howlies and Team America.

As Castle steered them towards a truly terrible dive bar, Bucky grabbed him and Clint. “Listen, if I’m gonna be on trial, they’re already watching me. You two can’t be fucking stupid, okay? No fights. No loudness. No bad decisions. I have to keep my nose clean. You’re lucky I’m not making you go for a juice smoothie.”

“Fuck juice smoothies,” Clint scoffed. He sobered quickly though and nodded before throwing his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Listen, we’ve got your back, man. Don’t worry about it. Best church behavior for the night.”

“You get drunk at church often?” Castle asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No one’s getting drunk,” Bucky objected.

But he was drowned out by Clint saying, “Only when they left the rectory doors open and the wine sitting out.”

“Jesus, you’re blasphemous,” Castle sighed.

“Oh, like you’re holy,” Barton scoffed.

Bucky shook his head and adjusted the brace under his shirt. He’d almost forgotten about the cane he was shoving in front of him and his ribs weren’t aching as much as they normally did. Maybe he was getting better at this existing thing.

“Three drinks each. Yes, shots count as one,” Bucky ordered.

“Half, please,” Barton whined. Castle didn't argue so Bucky sighed.

“Fuck, fine, shots count as half. But that’s all we’re doing. Three.”

Barton nodded and opened the door to the bar. Bucky closed his eyes with the smell of wood and beer and smoke. Yeah, alright, this was a good idea.

 

*  * *

 

It was not a good idea when Bucky slept through the night and his subconscious got away from him. He woke up to an explosion. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from but he was out of bed and running to the window to see. The apartment was still standing so maybe it was a few blocks down. He made it halfway to the window before he was suddenly off balance, stumbling and unable to right himself. He hit the wall hard, knocked a knee against a dresser and fell. His temple connected hard with the edge of the dresser and he let himself remain crumbled against the floor.

In the half unconscious haze of early morning, the terror of a bomb threat, and the mortification and failure of falling like he had crashed over him hard. He curled against the dresser, tears falling down his face. He couldn’t breathe through the sobbing. He knew his other arm still worked, but his entire body was off right then, half of his brain saying his left arm should be there and the other half contending with it not being there, so his right arm hung limp and useless against his side.

By the time the beeping outside registered as a construction vehicle backing up and Bucky realized the explosion had just been stone falling into a dumpster, he could feel blood down on his chin, dripping onto his shoulder.

 

(Art by [WalkingStardust](http://www.walkingstardust.tumblr.com))

 

Steve burst through the door by the third drop on his shoulder and Bucky blinked up at him, still half frozen. Steve’s chest was heaving, his fingers digging into the door frame. He was scared, Bucky realized. It kicked his own panic up a notch before Steve was collapsing next to him, examining his head and grabbing a sock from the drawer by them to hold against the wound.

Steve was scared _for him_.

“I just lost my balance,” Bucky mumbled, not at all convincing.

“Buck, you’re crying. What happened?” Steve’s arms were around him and normally Bucky wouldn’t want anyone to see him looking like this, but it was Steve, and Bucky was shaking, and right now those two things solved each other. He clung onto Steve too and pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder.

“I forgot where I was. I thought I heard an explosion. I thought I was back. And you weren’t here. I didn’t know,” he whimpered softly.

“It’s okay. You’re home. You’re home. Nothing’s on fire. I mean, I cooked this morning, but I didn’t set anything on fire.”

That startled a laugh out of Bucky and he looked up at Steve with wet eyes. “I lost my fucking balance. It was like I forgot who-who-who I have to fucking be now. I thought I could just run to the window and then…” He reached up to swipe at his eyes roughly.

“You wanna hear about all the dumb shit I did after the serum? ‘Cause there’s a laundry list,” Steve offered, brushing his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky knew it was greasy and knotted and he knew Steve could feel it too, but most days it was too damn hard to set aside time to shower. There was no outcome of it. He could lay in bed or be on the prowl or suffer in pain and phantom sensations, but fighting for a shower where he would be distracted and jumping at every noise was too much work on top of it all.

“Peggy’s got a few stories,” Bucky admitted with a hiccup. The construction truck outside stopped beeping and the air settled down.

“Did she tell you I almost fought a Nazi in a wedding dress?” Steve asked.

Bucky snorted and it became a choked out laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, right after I was big, they killed the best man I’d ever met. And I was chasing this Nazi. Literally minutes after stepping out of Stark’s machine. So I had no balance. You’re doing so much better than me, trust me.”

“I have a walking stick like an old man.”

“Or a wizard. Point is, I was chasing this guy through Manhattan way back when and we came around this corner and I was hauling ass after him and I couldn’t slow down for the turn and I crashed into the display window of a dress store. They’d had a wedding dress on display and when I climbed out, it was wrapped around me like I had tried to get into it. I didn’t have time to stop and get it off so I kept running and tried to pull it off as I went.”

“You literally chased down a Nazi while wearing a wedding dress,” Bucky laughed softly. He let out a strangled breath and set his head against Steve’s shoulder. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and kissed his temple softly, just behind the cut.

“Tomorrow, there won’t even be a bruise. You’ll get to move on, get better. I know things are really different right now. I think I would’ve died if I’d gone straight into battle after the serum. It took a long time for me to realize what had happened and get used to it. You’ve got the serum and a disability to work around. And I think you’re doing amazing, baby.”

“Just feels like most days are two steps back,” Bucky sighed softly.

“It feels like it, but it isn’t. And even if it was a bad day, your bad days are so far outnumbered by your good. I’ve seen a lot of soldiers come home, try to put themselves back together and you’re the best, doll.”

“You’re biased,” Bucky muttered back.

Steve laughed and nodded. “Maybe I’m a little bit biased. But you are remarkable. You were remarkable before I even met you.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment before he suddenly looked at Steve. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, baby. What is it?” Steve asked, furrowing burrowing between his eyebrows as he sat up a little to look at Bucky.

“The reason I didn’t want you to meet the Howlies, the reason Becs never did, why I didn’t want to tell you who my team was… Every time I go out there, I change. And...I don’t mean in the normal, PTSD, muscle building, team building, new music taste way. I mean that I’m different. I can feel it. After I was shot, I started noticing things. At first, I thought it was just part of the therapy. You know, like how people say you get stronger after surgeries and shit. But it wasn’t just my arm. I was faster. I had better eye sight, which, not that it was ever poor, but, I mean, I was seeing so much detail that I was getting headaches. Everything felt like it was dialed up to a ten.

“I told the therapist I had to have after the surgery about it all and he brushed it off, like it was to be expected. Normal for soldiers to be too on guard in civilian life. I asked Becs if I seemed different and she said the same thing. But I knew the guys would notice. We hadn’t been together too long when everything happened, so I thought if I could just keep them away from Becs…”

“No one could put two and two together,” Steve finished. It was smart, he thought. No better way to hide changes than to hide a baseline, or to keep a moving conclusion.

“Yeah, exactly. But every time I had a leave, every time I was being switched to another team, I had physical examinations and mental evaluations with the same group. And I saw my files once. They’re nothing like Sam’s or Frank’s or whatever. I think—“

“You think you were a medical experiment long before HYDRA got their claws in you.”

Bucky made a face and then ducked his head. “I’m paranoid, aren’t I? You can say it, it’s alright. I just...after I was shot, I saw the files. The balistics were our guns, it was friendly fire. There was a name listed that ordered the doctors to keep that classified. It was signed by Alexander Pierce.  He was at my medal of valor award and I heard that name in the desert.”

“I don’t think you’re paranoid. The military has been trying to recreate my serum for as long as I’ve had it. And soldiers are their favorite targets.”

“Even though you only wanted to be a soldier when you got it,” Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah. Between me and you, I think that’s why it keeps failing.”

“Gee, thanks, shit head.”

“No I mean… There’s a guy I used to have to fight, right after the Towers? They called him Nuke. He was fanatical. It wasn’t about protecting and serving. It was about destroying. And the serum amplified that. He wasn’t a _bad_ man before. Just misguided. But the misguided ones are the easiest to convince to risk their lives. That’s not you, Buck. You’re so good. You fought back against torture and brainwashing. They had to give you the serum while you were knocked out. If you think that’s not because they knew you’d kick up the biggest fuss, I don’t know what to tell you. The serum did for you, what it did to me. It latched onto the good, onto the protective, onto the loving, the heart, the courage and it amplified all of that.”

Bucky brought his hand up to wipe away tears he didn’t want to have. But once the dam was broken and all that cliche shit. “And I didn’t even get to attack a Nazi while I was wearing a wedding dress.”

It startled a laugh out of Steve and he pulled Bucky into his arms. “You’ll get your chance, I’m sure. The bastards always keep crawling back.”

Bucky nodded against Steve’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around Steve’s chest slowly. Still, he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around Steve’s easy acceptance of what Bucky had been worrying about for so long. If the military had given him the serum, he wondered how much else of the shit in his life was targeted. Did someone specifically want him dead on that mission? Was it his S.O.s who put him on a team with two traitors, who told HYDRA where to find him? Was all of that destruction and the blood and the chaos just for him? And how many other soldiers? What about Frank, with his freaky tolerance and healing factor? What about Wade, who shouldn’t fucking be alive? And Natasha and Clint who didn’t ever divulge anything about their past. How do two normal humans waltz into a spy agency and get put on a spec-ops team? And the news had said Logan had silver claws, which Bucky just thought were knives, but what if they weren’t?

“Baby?” he mumbled into Steve’s shoulder. “We need to go to the Kitchen?”

“Oh, yeah, I was making breakfast, but I got everything turned off, don’t worry.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I mean Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Why would you ever want to go to Hell’s Kitchen?”

Because Fogwell’s gym was in Hell’s Kitchen and Bucky needed to talk to Castle desperately. If there was anyone ready to believe a conspiracy about the military and the government, it was Castle. And Bucky thought, aside from Steve and probably Sam, Castle was the only guy he could trust. “Because my lawyer is in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“What? Doll, what are you talking about? Tony’s still looking.”

“No. I know who I’m hiring. He’s from Hell’s Kitchen. His name is Matt Murdock.”

Steve hummed and suddenly looked like he was a million miles away. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. You have a meeting with Stark tomorrow, and I’m with Fury. What about some time the day after?”

Bucky nodded. The day after was good. Structure, organization, something to plan ahead for. That was all good for his rehabilitation and healing. “Are you sure you can’t come with me? I don’t think he likes me half as much as he likes you.”

Steve barked out a laugh and slowly stood, forcing Bucky to stand with him. “Trust me, he doesn’t like me that much. He’s just getting used to you. And I think he’s carrying a lot of guilt around about what happened to you.”

“He should be carrying a lot of guilt around about what happened to all of the soldiers who actually died under his weapons that he sold to the enemy.”

Steve sighed and reached for Bucky’s cane. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if that’s the attitude you keep facing up to him with, it’s probably a large part of what makes you think he doesn't like you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and got his cane adjusted. He just leaned against it for a while before hobbling towards the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower. If everything really is off in the kitchen, you could join me.”

Steve shut the bathroom door behind them.

 

*  * *

 

 

In all the places in the world that Bucky wanted to be, waiting on Tony Stark by himself for a private meeting was none of them. He was still smarting from the fuck up yesterday and he just wanted the fucking arm as soon as possible so he could stop doing stupid shit like that. He managed a smile for Pepper because he liked her and she didn’t bullshit him ever. And she snuck him caramels when Stark talked for too long.

She let him into Stark’s lab and Bucky couldn’t help a wondrous glance around. God, he so wanted to be in school. He wanted to be learning this shit for himself.

“Good morning, Khaleesi, Queen of fire,” Stark greeted, tearing Bucky’s eyes from a suit prototype on the wall.

He scowled at Stark instead. “That’s not one of her titles, dipshit.”

“Ah, I forget you’re more pop culture savvy than your boyfriend.”

“Well, I was alive this century.”

Stark scoffed. “Sure were. Hey, is it true that you had a poster of me on your wall?” he asked, turning finally. He flipped a wrench in the air and caught it again.

“A poster of your schematics. Look, I’m not interested in arguing with you. Can we just get this over with?”

Stark stepped down from the elevated pad he’d been working on. He looked like a king descending from his throne. Bucky kind of hated it. There was an Ironman helmet in his hands and Bucky also hated that he was so obsessed with the suit that he knew it was an older mach version. Before he even had the team thing going on. When he was just Ironman, Earth’s Only Hero. Stark held out the helmet to him.

“Go on, try it on,” he offered, shaking it a little.

Bucky wasn’t going to argue until he had it in his hand, so he snatched it away and flipped it over as much as he could. “You’re supposed to be building me an arm, not hiding my face.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t hide that face, even with the permanent bitch face etched into it,” Stark assured. “I was just digging through a garage and found this. I never flew in it. Hell, I don’t know if it was ever attached to a suit.”

“Why are you telling me this, Stark?” Bucky asked warily. He found the trigger button that pulled the face plate back into the helmet and then he settled it over his head. He hated how cool it felt. He released the face plate and let it settle over his face. For a second, trapped in an unexpected dark, Bucky began to panic. But then JARVIS greeted him. “Good morning, Major Barnes. I’m afraid the mask isn’t programed for your facial structure, but we will make do,” he said before a full vision screen popped up and the eye slits opened. Bucky looked over at Stark and laughed like a little kid when it gave him all of Stark’s information and statistics.

“Strengths,” he read, “vast intellect and strategy. Weaknesses: hand to hand combat and...well, what do you know? Teamwork.”

“Yeah, well, you can build the supercomputer AI but you can’t make it love you,” Stark agreed.

Bucky pulled the helmet off and Stark had schematics pulled up on his projector. “Dr. Cho and I have been working on the design for your arm. It’s nothing fancy. Just something that will give you as much movement as possible.” He expanded the image to detail the forearm. “So we made these interlocking panels. They’re about an inch long and shaped so they fit together even at delicate folds and bends, like your elbow and wrist. They’ll calibrate for you, so you don’t have to worry about keeping the panels in check. Just make sure you’re keeping them clean.”

“Why are you doing this for me, Stark?” Bucky finally asked. “I sabotaged one of your projects. I killed good people out there.”

Stark screwed his mouth to one side before stepping towards Bucky. Bucky, in turn, took a few steps back. “Come here. I’m not gonna fight you. The AI just told you I can’t.” He waved his hand in a ‘come here’ motion towards his body. He pulled the top of his coveralls off and tied the sleeves around his waist. Then he tapped the center of his chest, a metallic pinging following.

“The arc reactor,” Bucky said. “It powers your suits.”

Stark made a face. “Kind of. You’re trying, which is good.” He pointed the wrench at Bucky. “You’re smart. I get why Steve likes you.”

Bucky reached for the wrench and got his hand around it for a few beats before it went flying across the work space and Bucky’s hand hung in the air. He spat out a sound and shoved his hand in his pocket. “Sorry. I didn’t mean--”

“Already forgotten. I didn’t need it anyway,” Stark said quickly, waving his hand dismissively. Bucky sat down hard on a free chair and hung his head down until his hair veiled his face.

Stark sighed above him. “I shouldn’t be alive,” he said. “That was my point with the arc reactor. I didn’t put this in me. It’s not aesthetic. Are you old enough to remember when Stark Industries was a weapons company?”

Bucky scoffed and nodded without lifting his head. “You were still making weapons my first year of service. My friends aren’t fond of you.”

“Understandable. Though not really my fault.”

“Stark,” Bucky ground out.

“I was there, do you remember? Do you get news in the middle of the desert?” Bucky nodded again. “I was captured in Afghanistan after being blasted with the shrapnel of a bomb with my own name on it.”

“Never a good sign to wake up to a WMD that literally has your name written on it,” Bucky scoffed. He knew this story. The jab wasn’t his own idea. It was passed around soldier to soldier. Not everyone who met a Stark bomb got to walk away as a superhero. People weren’t fond that Stark himself did.

“Right. To keep the shrapnel from getting to my heart, they put a fucking magnet in my chest. They connected it to a damn car battery.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it sounds like you shouldn’t be alive,” Bucky agreed. “You built the mini-arc reactor in a cave in the middle of nowhere and saved yourself. I know, Stark. Everyone knows.”

“There was someone else with me. Another scientist. The one who put this in my chest.” Stark tapped the arc reactor again. “He turned me into something I never meant to be. They all did. But he told me to make something of my life. ‘Don’t waste this chance.’” Stark sighed and Bucky could hear him pace to the other side of the garage. “Look, Barnes, all this to say that I know what you’re going through. I’ve literally been there. But you don’t get to waste this either, okay? I’m always telling Pepper that I must still be alive for a reason. And you must too.”

When the speech didn’t immediately go on, Bucky looked up at Stark. Some emotion was warring in his chest. Half of it was guilt for the humanitarian effort he’d ruined. Half of it was an ingrained hatred for Stark’s weapons. Some of it was his own pain and anguish, and some was a new sympathy for Tony Stark that he’d never have guessed he’d have.

“So, now can we get back to your arm? Because there’s some really cool stuff here that I’ve done to make your reason for being alive a little easier.”

Bucky snorted and nodded. He stood up slowly and returned to the hologram. “How many layers of plating are there?” he asked, expanding the model.

“It’s a full two layers, interlocking so that if the outer layer needs to expand, there will be the under layer. Most of the configuration happens in the upper arm, but your forearms will also do a lot of work and have a second layer as well. Your wrists and fingers are thinner and more flexible, so there’s only a thin, protective layer under them. Not an actual second set of panels.”

Bucky nodded and looked at the panels themselves. “Why do you have them cut with these divots and triangles?” he asked, zooming in on one.

“It’s to lock the panels in an open position. Ideally, if you need to use extreme force or strength, the panels will expand and lock in place, working the way muscle straining would, except you won’t be sore in the morning.”

Bucky nodded again and worked the model until the plates were locked open. “See, the second layer sits up to support and protect that gap,” Tony explained, gesturing to the inside of the plates. “It’ll prevent water damage and general grit and grossness.”

“Nothing wrong with a little grit and grossness every now and then,” Bucky responded automatically.

“In fine motor machinery, there’s a lot wrong with grit and grossness.”

“How are you attaching it to my arm?”

He knew there was constant discussion about the odd cut of the amputation and the difficulty of getting a serious prosthetic to stay upright without damaging the rest of his body. There was always someone who said they’d have to do internal surgeries, attached the prosthetic to the bone already there. Bucky hated the idea.

And, from the look on Stark’s face, Bucky wasn’t going to like his answer.

“We’ll start you out with something simpler. It’ll be a harness, so you’re used to the weight and the pull and having use of your arm again. It’ll still be conducive to your actions without you having to physically move each joint, but it’s not going to be nearly as smooth as the final product.”

“That’s not what I asked, Stark. Are you going to cut into my body to put the real thing on?”

Stark grimaced and collapsed the diagrams in front of them. “Yes. Probably. Dr. Cho and I are working on it together. We’re contacting Dr. Bruce Banner as well.”

“Dr. Banner, like Gamma rays, Dr. Banner? Like, won a nobel prize and disappeared, Dr. Banner? You know where the biggest mystery in the world is?” Bucky asked dubiously. He’d have crossed his arms over his chest if he just had the extra fucking arm to do it.

“Dr. Banner. Like, has seven PhDs, Dr. Banner. Like, that’s an excessive number of PhDs, Dr. Banner. The one and same.”

“Stark, don’t you have five?”

“Five is not seven.”

“Right, right,” Bucky scoffed. “Do you have your half way prosthetic for me?”

“You know this is normally a slow process, right? There’s measurements and fittings and adjustments and exercises and shit.”

“I know you’ve been measuring me as long as I’ve been conscious and I know nothing you do is ever a ‘normal’ process, or even close to it.”

“I was measuring you before you were conscious,” Stark agreed.

“I don’t know what point you’re trying to make, but it’s just working to make you look creepier.”

Tony shrugged. “A burden I bear, among many others. Come here. This is just a prototype. It’s not cut to your exact measurements, but it’ll be damn close.”

Bucky followed Stark to a lab table where Stark was fighting with a key code on a large utility box. When he finally got the lock sprung and opened the lid, Bucky might’ve stopped breathing. There was a delicate prosthetic nestled in the insulation foam. It was more whole than Bucky was expecting. A full bicep and forearm, smooth hand and fingers. It wasn’t point and stick or awkward joints.

“Can I…” he began, before he lost words.

“I would prefer you did.” Stark came around to stand next to Bucky, pulling the prosthetic out and looping a few harnesses around his body. “Now, the final version, we discussed, may be surgically implanted, but for these prototypes, we don’t want to do that. You’ll have to get used to these. It’ll probably rub you raw if you don’t wear something under it. Don't worry. I had a few compression vests brought in for you. Slight padding around the tightest of the harnesses.”

Bucky let Stark tie him in—though he couldn't think of it like that because if he did, he’d end up throwing Stark across the room and tailing it out of the lab. He could already feel the heat of the sensors at his shoulder.

“There’s a slight sleeve here,” Stark explained, circling his fingers around the prosthetic over the stub. “This will probably expand into your shoulder a little in later versions, but we did a mostly clean break for this one. What it’ll do is the sleeve will read the nervous reactions and impulses in what’s left of your arm. Through a lot of complicated work, you’ll be able to control the prosthetic as easily as your hand. It’s going to be a lot of work, though, on your part too. I put in my time. It’s your turn. The shoulder area will feel weird. The clean break means it isn’t aligned to your muscles or skeletal structure, so it’s going to lift and dig a lot. If you think it’s shifting too much, tell me and we’ll work on the measurements again.”

Bucky nodded and waited for Tony to move away before he thought about moving his hand. He watched it lift like it wasn’t his own body and brought it up to his chest, pulling at his dog tags. He couldn’t quite control the movements enough to grab the ball-chain, but he got his fingers under the tags and lifted them to his face.

James Buchanan Barnes. March 10, 1988. That was him. Thirty years old going on one hundred. He let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Tony scoffed. “Go again. Tie your hair back,” he suggested. Fine motor skills. Right.

Bucky pulled the hair tie out. It was a little odd, using his right hand to hold the tie, but he was able to wrangle his hair into a tighter ponytail and reloop the band around it. It took a little longer than it used to, but he could do his own hair again. No more asking Steve. No more jokes about how many products he used.

“Jesus, Stark,” he breathed.

“Actually, it’s Tony, but close enough,” Tony said with a shrug. There was a please grin on his face though. “Okay, so you can’t wear it all the time. Definitely don’t wear it to bed. Probably not during sexy-times either. I didn’t design it for that kind of stress or sweat or rubbing. If you notice it’s made your skin raw, take it off. Let me know if it makes you bleed and we’ll work on the measurements.”

“Major Barnes, don’t think of it as a failure on your part if you run into complications with the device,” the AI said overhead. “Think of it as a failure on Master Stark’s part.”

“Hey!” Tony objected.

“He’ll need to know all measurement adjustments for the final prosthetic, so, please, do tell him everything.”

Bucky grinned up at the ceiling, though he figured the AI wasn’t housed in the ceiling. It just felt right. “Thanks,  Jarvis.”

“My pleasure, Major Barnes.” And the AI really did sound pleased with itself.

“Yeah, yeah, stop flirting, Jar.” Tony held out a Stark-Phone. “I know your boyfriend has one, but he’s pretty useless, so here’s one for you. Use it however you’d like. It’s got all of the goodies and none of the surveillance I usually put on them.

Bucky turned the phone over in his hand before glancing at Stark. “Theoretically speaking, if there were files on this,” he started and Tony nodded. “Would those files. have to do with me?”

Tony sighed. “Theoretically speaking, when I give a Stark-Phone to someone, it comes preloaded with all the files and information I have on that person. It helps with the personalization,” he said with a shrug.

Bucky nodded and bit his lip. “Thank you, Stark.”

“It’s your information, Barnes. It’s yours. Now go away before I change my mind.” He grinned at Bucky before turning. “Oh, and theoretically speaking, there’s a few designs and schematics on that thing too. Explore it.”

Bucky grinned and held the phone tighter before turning and heading out.

 

*  * *

 

The first few days after getting the prosthetic on were really good and really hard. But it was a good kind of struggle Bucky felt like he was making forward movement as he got knocked down and worked his way back up. He knocked a lot of things over, dropped his phone more times than he ever had in his life before, and crushed a lot of things. Thank God he usually read one dollar bargain bin books because he ruined four of them.

But he also showered on his own, left the walker in his room around the apartment, helped Steve move them fully into the new place, did his own hair, hugged Steve with two arms. It was so amazing that he spent most of the day lightheaded with wonder.

This was not so wondrous. Bucky was fairly certain he’d just seen a rat scurry under the floorboards and someone had come to their door with a gun when they heard Bucky and Steve walking down the hallway.

“Why do all of your friends live in Hell’s Kitchen?” Steve sighed. Bucky cut him a look before he leaned forward to knock on the door.

“Come on in,” a voice called and Bucky let himself into the small office. It was literally the size of a closet, so tracking the bodies in it wasn’t a problem. Two men and a woman. The woman looked up and her eyes caught on Bucky, barely managing an appreciative flick over Steve’s body. Rude, Bucky thought. And she wasn’t even checking out Bucky. She was staring at him like she could read every secret he had.

“Ah, Major Barnes. And...did you bring Captain Rogers as well?” the dark haired man asked pleasantly.

Bucky was about to, vaguely snarkily reply that the man’s eyes had not deceived him, when Bucky’s own eyes caught on the glasses the man was wearing. At least Murdock couldn’t see the furious blush that came over his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Murdock said with a smile. “A lot of people are surprised. ‘How do you survive law school blind’ ” in a mock impression. “Most just a lot of Braille. My fingers went numb some nights.”

“They did not,” the blond next to him scoffed. “Counsel? A word?” he hissed at his partner. Even though they were talking in low, hushed tones with their hands over their mouths and the AC kicking on, Bucky could hear the blond say, “That’s the Winter Soldier, Matt. The actual Winter Soldier. Standing in our office.”

“He’s a client, Foggy. Be professional,” Murdock answered.

“He’s murder—”

Matt stabbed his cane into Foggy’s foot and sat up again. Murdock smiled and ducked his head before gesturing to the man. “Gentlemen, this is my partner, Foggy Nelson.”

Foggy, whatever kind of name that was, nodded at them.

“Oh, like Nelson’s Deli!” Steve said, suddenly brightening.

The man blushed but his reluctant grin was proud. “My pops and little brother run it.”

“They make the best sandwiches. You’ve gotta tell them that I love their shop.”

Suddenly, Bucky thought Foggy wouldn’t be so reluctant to help them. Bucky didn’t get a chance to say anything before Murdock was continuing.

“Major Barnes, we’ll take your case.”

Bucky blinked and stumbled back into Steve’s side. “Because Steve likes a good sandwich?” he asked, just a little dumb.

Murdock and the woman laughed. “No, no. Just because we believe that you’re innocent,” Murdock explained.

“It’s kind of our thing,” the woman said. “I’m Karen Page. Office Manager. Did Frank Castle send you to us?”

“Or was it Barton?” Foggy asked.

Bucky blinked again. Lawyers who could read brains, he decided, were not fair. “Um, actually they both did. Simultaneously. They really tried hard to beat each other to the punch though.”

“As soon as I heard one of Frank’s soldiers was in trouble, I knew we’d hear from you,” Karen said with a small smile.

“Um, actually, I was the commander. He’s one of my soldiers.”

Foggy’s face lit up. “Matt, you’ve gotta tell him that next time he gets arrested.”

“Foggy,” Karen warned.

“We’ll need some files and information about your case, Major Barnes,” Murdock said, pulling everything back together.

But Bucky was barely paying attention to that. Steve had the Stark-Phone with all of his files on it. Bucky was staring at the bruises on Murdock’s knuckles and the pitch of his body, the minute grimaces when he had to shift. And Bucky was fairly certain there was blood behind his ear.

Why did a blind lawyer have bloody knuckles and hurt ribs? Maybe he ran into a door, tripped down the stairs, whatever. But Murdock had also known who had come through the door without anyone saying anything. Knew he had someone with him. And people that good at sensing a room didn’t run into doors. Nor did bloody knuckles happen by falling down the stairs.

He let Steve and Murdock talk, occasionally giving his own two cents, letting them take a statement, do procedural things. But when he and Steve were walking away, he chanced one look behind him, catching Murdock frowning after them and Foggy glaring at his partner.

Bucky waited until they got home before he was pulling off the button down and slacks he was wearing to change into tactical gear.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Steve asked, blocking the door just as quickly as Bucky stalked back through the new apartment. The prosthetic gave him a kind of swagger that he definitely was into. Nobody stood in his way on the street. But, then again, Steve was a contrary bastard.

“Our lawyer is lying. If I’m gonna get sent to the ice box, it’s not gonna be because my lawyer is a lying piece of shit,” Bucky said, tucking a knife into his thigh holster.

“Bucky, Jesus Christ!” Steve exclaimed. “You’re not stabbing your lawyer!”

“He was in a fight.”

“Maybe he got mugged. People take advantage of people, Buck.”

“There were scars His ribs were busted up on both sides. How often do you see mugging victims with broken ribs?”

“Buck, please don’t do this,” Steve begged.

Bucky worried his lower lip before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to know. I have to… This is my life. And this shit? Tracking people? Knowing what’s going on? Tactical gear? It’s what I’ve missed since you saved me. If I can do a little bit of good, it can help with the rest of the bad.”

Steve ground his teeth together, jaw tight, and didn’t move. So Bucky went back to the bedroom, shut and locked the door behind him, and went out the window. It was his damn life, his recovery. Steve didn't get to say boo to that.

As it turns out, Bucky was not half as sneaky as he thought he was because thirty minutes later, Steve was crouched down next to Bucky on the rooftop opposite Matt Murdock’s apartment.

“I hate you,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, I know you do. Feeling’s pretty mutual right now, bud.”

“You should’ve stayed home.”

“You’re trying to kill your lawyer,” Steve snapped back. “Besides, if something malfunctions with your arm, I don't want you out here alone.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to my arm. Will you be quiet?”

Bucky’s body tensed as Murdock suddenly appeared at his window. Or, at least, Bucky thought it was Murdock. He was in a red jumpsuit. It wasn’t until he pulled on a cowl that Bucky realized what was happening.

He passed the sniper rifle scope—sans rifle—to Steve and turned over to lay on the roof. After a second, Steve joined him.

“Your lawyer is Daredevil,” he muttered, staring at the sky.

“And you thought he was just mugged. Idiot.”

“Your dumbass friends thought the best lawyer for you was a vigilante.”

“Maybe they don’t know,” Bucky suggested, lolling his head to look at Steve.

“Barton is a Shield spy and Castle has never kept his nose in his business once. They both live out here. They know what Murdock is.”

Bucky sighed and lifted his head just enough to thunk it on the roof. Then he hit his forehead on the lip of the ledge when someone was flipping onto the roof and landing in front of them.

Steve and Bucky were both on their feet in an instant, thought Bucky swayed slightly. Steve put a balancing hand on the small of his back.

“I didn’t think I could trick you, Barnes,” Daredevil said, cocking his head as he...looked? at them. “I knew you’d follow me. Good thing there’s nothing better to do than talk to you.”

“Who else knows?” Bucky asked, shifting uncomfortably. He’d never been caught on a stake out and now he felt like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You’re right. Castle and Barton both know. Barton fills in for me sometimes. Castle does not.”

“No, I can’t imagine he does,” Bucky agreed.

“Other than that, it’s my associates and a nurse at Metro General. No one else, Barnes. And I don’t plan on letting that be known.”

“You could hear us talking,” Steve said. It wasn’t a question.

Murdock nodded. “The rest of my senses have been enhanced since the accident that left me blind.”

Suddenly Bucky’s mind was running again and that was probably dangerous because the last free wheeling train of thought landed him here. Still, pieces were falling into place. “All at once? Or like you honed them in?”

Matt cocked his head again and shrugged. “Both, I guess. I’ve been honing them in, but I guess it was pretty instantaneous. Not so much that I’m teaching myself to use them, but controlling them.”

Bucky’s hand found Steve’s and squeezed. Matt frowned.

“Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Bucky lied.

“You’re lying,” Matt said.

“You do your job, I’ll do mine. When we each have answers, we can talk to each other about it.”

Matt considered it before nodding .”That’s fair, Barnes. For now though? Keep your head down and maybe don’t follow every suspicious character you find. I imagine several of them about to be appearing in your life.”

“Is that a threat, Murdock?”

“It’s a warning. I can’t protect you from everything.”

“Yeah? What about Daredevil though? Can he?”

Matt smirked at them before backflipping off the roof. When Bucky ran over, he wasn’t on the wall or the street. Maybe that was a win for Daredevil.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky could keep his head low. Hell, one night of adventure was enough for him. Between bar trips with Barton, and usually Natasha, and medical evals with Tony, Cho, and Banner, and meetings with Murdock, Bucky was ready to always turn in and all it a night. Weeks on weeks of that shit was wearing him down. Movie dates with Steve needed to become more of a norm than a luxury.

This was so much better than anything else in his life. Pizza and beer and chocolates and bad rom-coms. This movie was a whole lot worse than Bucky remembered, but it made him laugh just like it had when he’d first watched it and Steve’s running sarcastic commentary was making him laugh in a whole new way.

“There’s no way kissing like that is comfortable,” Steve snorted towards the end. Bucky was half asleep on his shoulder and just grunted in response, cracking open an eye to see which scene he was referring too.

“That’s not that uncomfortable,” he mumbled, adjusting his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. Then he smirked slowly before shifting to straddle Steve’s thighs. “It’s really not that bad, probably,” he hummed slowly.

Steve settled his hands on Bucky’s waist with an amused smirk. “That so? Think I’m gonna need a little more proof than you just assuring me.”

Bucky leaned down to kiss him, slow at first, gentle and soft like he normally did. Steve let him before shaking his head. “That’s definitely not how she was kissing him.”

So Bucky really went in for it, tongue and sucking and a desperate hand in Steve’s hair, mussing it and scratching at his scalp lightly. Steve responded immediately. His hands were all over Bucky’s back, up his sides and over his ass and on his thighs and in his hair. His hips were already pressing into Bucky’s and Bucky could feel him getting hard through his sweatpants.

“Hell yeah, baby. Seems like it does something for you,” Bucky groaned, pressing his hips down on Steve’s.

Steve moaned into his mouth, fingers scratching over his back before he was suddenly standing, hands under Bucky’s ass to carry him. He made his way blindly into the bedroom, because Bucky refused to stop kissing him. He let Steve drop him unceremoniously onto the bed. He only didn’t panic about righting himself without an arm because Steve was crawling over him almost immediately anyway.

Steve was kissing down Bucky’s chest, one hand on his hip to keep him still, and the other pulling at the shorts Bucky was wearing. He got them halfway down Bucky’s thighs before switching his focus to his own sweatpants. He got them kicked off much faster and finally pulled Bucky’s shorts all the way off.

Bucky ground his hips up into Steve’s, moaning into his mouth when Steve kissed him again. He brought his hand to the back of Steve’s head, curling his fingers around the strands of hair that had grown out since he had stopped reporting into his super secret spy organization. He’d never get over how physically hot Steve was. He couldn’t believe that hadn’t been a tipping point before. How had he had sex with Steve for months without realizing he was enhanced?

Then Steve sucked a mark on Bucky’s neck and drew him out of his thoughts. Bucky pushed Steve back and straddled his hips, grinding his ass down on Steve’s cock and bracing his hand on Steve’s chest.

“Fuck, yeah, baby. Wanna feel how big you are. How much I turn you on,” he gasped.

Steve was whimpering under him, and damn if that didn’t do things to Bucky’s mental state. He knew he liked to make people feel good, but making Steve fall apart was in a league of its own. He ground back on Steve’s cock again, until he could get it slotted between his ass cheeks.

He barely realized his hand was slipping over Steve’s slick skin before Steve’s hand was on Bucky’s side, high up, almost to his shoulder, squarely over the scars. Nothing had touched his shoulder in so long that, before he knew what was happening, Bucky was coming over Steve’s stomach and chest hard with a choked cry. He felt Steve strain under him too, arching into his ass, coming over the small of his back.

Then they just stared at each other, gasping in air and coming down off an unexpected high.

“Do you usually…” Steve started, but couldn’t finish.

Still, Bucky shook his head. “It’s not exactly a sexy zone. I don’t know what happened.”

“Well, maybe if we work the area a little more--”

“No, Steve! This...this...fucking mottled mess on my body is not some Goddamn experiment, okay? There will be no ‘fixing it’ by fucking...jacking off to it or something. Don’t fucking analyze this. We were just in the heat of the moment.”

Bucky pulled himself off of the bed, grabbing a towel he’d used earlier in the week to wipe himself clean before he threw it at Steve too. He kept his back to Steve, running his hand over his face and then through his hair.

“God, I really thought tonight we could just be...fucking normal again.”

“There is no normal, Buck. We have to make our own definition,” Steve sighed. Bucky could tell he was still on the bed. He hated it. He hated everything that came after those fucking experiments, no matter how useful it may be at any given time.

“All I wanted was to have sex with my boyfriend. I think I should be able to at least have that fucking normal.”

He heard Steve stand and make his way over to Bucky’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissed his good shoulder gently. “Wanna hear something normal?” he asked softly, dragging his lips over Bucky’s skin.

Bucky hummed, reaching out to rub the arm that was coming around his stomach. “Hit me, Rogers.”

“Mmm, rather not. You’d win in a fight.”

“Damn right.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “It’s pretty normal that we painted our apartment together last week. Normal that we had sex afterwards and kicked over that box of books that was at the end of the bed. Normal that you still can’t figure out where to put pots and pans and that it takes me five minutes to find a microwavable bowl. Normal that Sam and Riley and Nat and Clint and Frank were all here for dinner, for us. Normal that they got drunk and loud and someone called our landlord. Normal that we got away with it by flashing our tags.” Bucky could feel his smile against his shoulder and he shrugged it lightly.

“You’re such a sap. You’re acting like that dinner party was the best night of your life,” he teased, squeezing Steve’s forearm gently. Steve spun Bucky around so they were closer together and neatly pulled him up until Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist. It was uncomfortable. They were still sticky and naked and it was pressing things where Bucky didn’t want them pressed. Still, his arm went around Steve’s neck, petting the soft skin there.

“Most nights with you are the best nights of my life,” he murmured. Bucky leaned down to kiss him and let Steve carry him back to the bed, legs parting as he was dropped back, neck bared. His hand stayed above Steve’s shoulders. Steve held onto his hips.

It was the most vanilla sex of his life. He loved it.

 

*  * *

 

The next morning, Steve and Bucky were at Stark tower. Steve was in fucking khakis and a button down, but even Bucky’s jeans and tank were inconspicuous enough that Bucky didn’t think anyone could tell he felt like he’d had a break through the night before. He couldn’t decide if he wanted people to know or not. Recovery was weird like that.

Bucky still hadn’t grown to like Stark much more than he had. But Stark Tower was cool as all hell. He loved being in the building.He loved snooping around and finding new, cutting edge science. He loved when Stark let him into the lab and let him tinker around.

Since everything had happened, he’d forgotten he’d ever wanted to go to school, but being here brought all of that back with a burning vengeance. He’d been _good_ at school. He was so smart and he missed tinkering.

As they walked into the building, Bucky’s favorite part of it all greeted them with a welcoming, “Good morning, Captain Rogers and Major Barnes. I will let Mr. Stark know you’ve arrived. You’ll be on floor 36. Captain, do forgive Mr. Stark for converting half your floor into a lab and med bay. Dr. Cho has arrived already and Dr. Banner will be partaking in the discussion today. Good luck, Major Barnes.”

A coil of nerves cut through Bucky’s stomach but he grinned at Steve and pulled him to the elevator. Even though he knew this was the same building that Steve’s suite was in—hell, they were going up to the suite—Bucky always found it difficult to reconcile Steve’s bedroom in the same space as Tony’s work space. Walking in with Steve made him feel like he was about to get lucky.

Instead, when the elevator doors opened, Dr. Banner greeted them with that shy, withdrawn persona he had. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Bucky, do you mind changing into this now?” he asked, holding out a hospital gown. “We want to get your readings as close to baseline as possible in the same conditions you’ll be under the blade in. Steve, it’s always a pleasure.”

Steve grinned at him and held out his hand to shake Banner’s. “You know the pleasure’s always mine, Doctor. I’m glad Bucky has someone like you in his corner.”

“Well, I’m glad to be here,” Banner said, ducking his head. “I’ll give you both a moment.”

He ducked out of the room and Bucky reached for Steve’s hand. “You ready to start sleeping with a guy who has both hands?” he asked with a grin. “Bet I can be double the fun.”

“Why? So you can press two cold hands on my stomach in the middle of the night?” Steve teased back, leaning down to kiss him. They were about to be pulled into separate rooms and when Bucky came back out, he’d have a permanent arm again. It was another paradigm shifter. Another change to get used to. But all those months ago, Steve had been right. He loved every version of Bucky presented to him. This would be no different.

Bucky was only shaking a little bit with nerves and Steve held him closer. “It’s just an eval first, one last time. Then you’ll be put under and you won’t even know what’s happening. It’ll just be me who has to worry the whole damn time,” Steve said, brushing his fingers over Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky smiled up at him and nodded softly. He stole another kiss before Dr. Cho came out. “We’ll only steal him for a few hours, Captain. I’ve given you plenty of time,” she teased. “I’ve missed his pretty face.”

Bucky grinned at her and pretended to bow. “After you then, mademoiselle.” He looked at Steve and smiled, real and genuine and hopeful. Steve figured it was going to be okay.

~

“Woah, woah, put that down before you break it,” Tony instructed while Steve laughed maniacally from the workbench he was sitting on. It had only been a week since the surgery, but Bucky was acting like he’d been born with the metal arm. Bucky set down the massive power drill he’d pulled from its corner. “Did that pull anything? Did you feel any strain on your ribs?” Tony asked.

“No. I think something overlapped in my shoulder, but the backs of my shoulders have been fucked up since the bullet wound.”

Tony made a noise and marked something down on his Stark-Pad. “You have’t felt like you’ve pulled anything loose, right?”

Bucky shook his head and advanced on Steve. Steve yelped when, instead of giving him some sugar, Bucky lifted the workbench one handed.

“Barnes!” Tony shouted. “You’re gonna be the death of me, oh my God. No wonder my dad never let me in his workshop.”

Bucky grinned and Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. He could almost trick himself into believe this was before anything happened. Except that Bucky was still holding the workbench up, kissing Steve’s thighs because they were face level to him.

“Barnes!” Tony hollered again.

Bucky set the workbench down and kissed Steve sweetly.

 

*  * *

 

Despite what Bucky thought was wonderful progress, Steve didn’t leave his side for three weeks. Naturally, two days after he left on a short stay mission, the apartment door burst open and Bucky had to run from his relaxing evening in his bedroom to see what was happening.

“Someone tried to kill me,” Frank greeted like he wasn’t trailing blood through Bucky’s apartment on his way to the bathroom.

“Who the fuck is stupid enough to try’n kill you?” Bucky asked, running his hands through his hair. Normally he didn’t use two hands for shit like that, but, hell, he had his second hand back and he was using it for everything. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Come stitch me up. That robo-cop arm is steadier than my hands,” Frank called.

Bucky sighed and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels on his way down to the bathroom. He handed the bottle over to Frank, who was sitting in his tub with the water running and half his chest under it. At least he’d taken his boots off. Frank ducked his head under the water and then shook it off, sending water and diluted blood all over Bucky and his bathroom.

“Hey, fucker, I share this space. You can’t fuck it up,” Bucky warned.

Frank opened the bottle with his teeth and wordlessly jerked his shoulder towards Bucky. There was already blood dripping down Frank’s face again, which concerned Bucky more than the hole in his shoulder, but he did as he was prompted, grabbing a suture kit that Sam had conspicuously left once upon a time. He sat on the toilet and quickly threaded the suturing needle. He set it aside when he had to bat away Frank’s attempt to sterilize the area with the Jack Daniels.

“Think again, shithead. Shit’s expensive.” Bucky grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and emptied half of it onto the wound. “What happened to you?” he asked while Frak seethed in the tub.

“Was out with my family and I’d just put them on this silly train that would take them around the park when I got jumped. Fucking all sides. Trained assholes.”

“Hold still,” Bucky ordered, bracing his human hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Who do you think they were?” he asked, making the first two punctures and tying the end off.

“I know they were the assholes from the desert, who had you. I recognized the sigil on their gear.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold and for a second both hands seized. Bucky didn’t even know the metal hand could react like that. “Did you get Maria and the kids out?” he asked, instead of digging more into Hydra and what the fuck they were doing in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah, they’re fine. I sent them to stay with her mom upstate.”

“You sent them away?”

“Hell yeah. If these bastards are jumping me in the middle of a park, God knows what they’d do while she’s home alone with the kids.”

Bucky nodded and finished suturing Frank’s arm. He wet a washcloth to wipe away the blood and then tried to clean his face more. “Is this a fuckin’ bullet graze?” he asked, stomach revolting again. The damage was a quarter of an inch down and just more than an inch long along his skull. “You got shot in the fuckin’ head, Castle?” Bucky grabbed a razor and cleared as much of the hair around the wound as he could without leaving Castle half bald.

“Someone tried to. They obviously didn’t succeed.” Frank couldn’t stop the hiss and full body tremors as Bucky washed the wound with alcohol and wiped away the blood again.

“What did you do?” Bucky asked, trying to get Frank talking so that he wouldn’t pay as much attention to the suturing.

“Killed the bastards and had a friend call in an anonymous tip. Grabbed Maria and the kids on the other side of the park.” Frank hissed again and glanced over to Bucky’s face without moving his head.

“Your kids didn’t ask why you were bleedin’ all over the place?”

“They couldn’t see most of it ‘cause of a jacket I was wearing. I told them we had to go because I bumped my head.”

“Jesus Christ, Castle,” Bucky sighed.

“I tracked them back to their hidey hole though.”

“You’ve had a bullet wound in your head for hours now?”

“I wasn’t about to let a van full of cowards who couldn’t get a job done get away from me. They’ll just keep comin’ back and that shit ain’t happenin’.”

Bucky sighed and tied off the stitching. “You should get this looked at by a professional. You’re lucky you were already mostly buzzed. You might’ve ended up even uglier than you normally are.”

Frank scowled at him and immediately brought his fingers up to check the sutures like there was anything he could do about it now. “We’re gonna go find those bastards, Barnes,” he said, standing and peeling out of his wet clothes.

“I hope my boyfriend doesn’t walk in and see you walking around half naked.” Bucky’s heart was thumping painfully in his chest, working its way up to a gallop. He had barely even started sparring again. He sure as hell hadn’t held a gun since losing his arm. He could not run into a warehouse full of hostiles with Castle while he was like this.

“Where is the golden boy?” Castle asked, pulling on one of Bucky’s old tank tops. “Fuck, your clothes smell like old lady’s laundry,” he scowled.

“Spend a lot of time sniffing geriatrics’ undies?”

“Probably not as much time as you spend eating one out.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond and then shut it because, yeah, fine, whatever, that was his life. “Castle, I ain’t ready to go back into the fight. I can’t do that right now. I don’t even know how well this arm works yet.”

“You’re sewing me up just fine. It’s a simple beat down. I’m not asking you to come with me. I’m telling you you’re coming with me. I can’t do this on my own, and no one else would come with me. No one else deserves to come with me.”

Bucky’s stomach turned over again and he looked away from Castle, grabbing one of the paperbacks Steve had laying around. He flipped through the pages and then choked on the dusty smell that wafted towards him.

“You can’t hide in this room for the rest of your life. You want to be able to roam the streets again, you want to jump into a fight, you want to tell the bastards what happened to you, you’re gonna have to get out there and fight for it,” Castle insisted.

“And I will. When I’m good and ready to, Castle. I’m on trial. I can’t just disappear to kill a bunch of Nazi bastards.”

“If the system was any kind of fair, they’d consider killing a bunch of Nazi bastards time served and pin a medal on you.”

Bucky shook his head and sat down heavily in one of the chairs on the other side of the room. “Where the hell do you think Hydra is camped out in New York?”

“They were in the Kitchen. I think they’re tryin’ to get closer to Stark’s tower without gettin’ spotted by him.”

Bucky closed his eyes and dropped his head back. When he pressed his hands over his face, he was almost ready for the cool touch of his metal hand. It didn’t take long for Castle to throw Bucky’s blue jacket onto his lap. “Let’s go. No time like the present.”

“Si vis pacem, para bellum,” Bucky sighed, standing and pulled his jacket on over the compression shirt he was wearing. It was supposed to help with blood flow around the anchor site.

“Nothing truer, brother,” Frank agreed. “My truck is out front.”

“You better not have run over Steve’s bike.”

“If I was going to destroy your property, it wouldn’t be that beauty.”

Bucky shook his head and laced up his boots. It was sending something thrilling through his body. He felt like he was readying for war. A war with no rules, no boundaries. How stupid was he, to pretend like he could live without war. A soldier trying to be peaceful.

He stood up and adjusted the prosthetic, more out of nerves than anything. “Let’s go.”

 

*  * *

 

When Bucky imagined a psychopath's car, Castle’s truck was not the first thing that came to mind. He kept it almost obsessively clean. Half the time, Bucky was left wondering if he traded it in for a new model. It was large and comfortable and Bucky didn’t want to admit how many times he’d fallen asleep in it while Frank made him run around the state with him.

Three hours into this stake out, and Bucky was ready to fall asleep again. He _had_ been getting ready for bed when Castle burst into his apartment. With the exception of a few city workers at dusk, no one had been in or out of the warehouse the whole time they’d been watching the doors. Bucky was not made for extended ops. Even the kind of sniping he did was battle ready. Climbing structures in the middle of gun fire to take out a dozen hostile without being seen. Not parking himself on a building roof and waiting.

Something crinkled to Bucky’s side and he looked over at Castle in the driver’s seat with open disgust. “You did not just open a can of tuna in a car with someone next to you,” he said flatly.

Castle turned an unimpressed stare on him. “You want some, or what?”

“Fuck no. It stinks. What are you gonna eat that on? You bring a whole loaf of bread? Mayonnaise?”

Without breaking eye contact, Castle pulled a plastic spoon out of his coat pocket and dug out a heaping spoonful of plain tuna before shoving it into his mouth.

Bucky gaped at him. “You are absolutely fucking disgusting.”

“Shaddup and be on watch,” Castle muttered, rolling his eyes.

Bucky made a face at him before scowling and turning his attention back to the street outside. It was a quiet night for Hell’s Kitchen, all things considered. He hadn’t even heard or seen any emergency lights. He couldn’t remember a night in the Kitchen without lights. The rain from earlier had stopped and the lights of bodegas and hole in the wall restaurants reflected in the ground. A whole second world.

Bucky lifted his metal hand to watch the neon lights dance off of the polished metal. Part of him couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. Sure, he’d beat the shit out of some guys before with Castle, but they had always instigated first. This was different. Not that the bastards now didn’t deserve it. It was just different.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, dropping his arm and shifting in his seat. He knew better than to move too much. It would draw too much attention to them, rock the truck, even if Castle had them decently hidden. “Five walking in,” he added, glancing at Castle.

Castle threw his tuna can in the back seat and leaned forward to watch with Bucky. “Armed. But these aren’t the heavy hitters.”

Bucky knew that. Could tell from their skipping walk and the way their heads turned with every drop of water and can being knocked over.

“There’s been movement around the back all night. I’ll bet that’s where their bosses have been sneaking in from.”

“Do you think it’s Pierce or Orange?” Bucky asked, reaching for his coat to pull on.

“Don’t know. Hope it’s both of the bastards,” Castle said. He killed the engine once the door was shut behind the last of the goons and Bucky and he got out of the car in tandem. Frank moved to the back to grab his duffel bag and Bucky leaned on the bumper. Bucky wished he smoked so he could do something his hands, focus on anything else other than the drumming of his heart.

Steve was thousands of miles away. He wasn’t even in the country. There was no way he could get caught. In and out. Kill the assholes. No information needed.

Frank appeared by Bucky’s side, holding out a small pistol, a much larger rifle and a belt of knives. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout you when I packed.” Bucky tucked the pistol into his thigh holster and slung the rifle over his back. “You and your stupid fanny pack of weapons,” Castle added as Bucky secured the belt around his waist. It was odd, letting it hang on top of his hips, instead of looping into tac pants. But he didn’t have tac pants anymore and he wanted his knives.

“You got any real plan here?” Bucky asked, instead of arguing with Castle over stupid shit.

“Shoot the bastards before they shoot me.”

“Yeah, I figured you weren’t a plan guy. Why would we have a plan before infiltrating the secret base of Nazi-fucks?” Bucky rolled his shoulders back and listened to the odd clink of the plates in his new arm calibrating. “After you,” he offered, holding his human hand towards the door.

Castle cocked his high powered rifle and headed forward. All things considered, this was not how Bucky expected it to go.

They got into the building with no problem. There were no lookouts, no bouncers by the door. Bucky had had a worse time sneaking into some clubs in jeans before. Still, he shrugged the rifle to his chest and held onto his barrel carefully.

Everything from the street was amplified in the building and Bucky could pick up on every creak of the warehouse’s old walls. Outside a dog howled down the street.

A raucous round of laughter and a garbled dissent cut through the hyperfixation. Bucky glanced at Castle, but he was a steady arrow, continuing forward on silent feet. With boots that damn heavy, he shouldn’t be able to sneak around like he did. Bucky fanned out more, keeping an equal distance as Castle suddenly veered left, towards distinct body on body noises.

A glint towards the ceiling tore Bucky’s gaze away, but when he looked up, he couldn’t find what had drawn his eye. When he looked back, Castle had a body on the floor and a slash of blood over his cheek.

Bucky gestured to his own cheek. “That yours?”

“I took it and that makes it mine,” Castle said and made Bucky roll his eyes.

They continued forward, taking down another three idiots. The last one, Castle kicked through a thin door into an open room with a chair in the middle of it.

Bucky froze.

There was a body in the chair, ashen, with blood coming out of its ears. The chest and face were bruised and there was a decent sized hole at the base of the throat. A breathing tube. The limbs were tied down and, if Bucky strained, he could see where one of the ribs had snapped under the chest strap. That damn fucking halo was barely lifted from the head.

It was a good thing Frank was laying down widespread fire because Bucky still hadn’t moved. On the other side of the chair, firing back at Castle, was a dead man. Everyone had told Bucky he was dead. Castle had said he’d killed him.

But, sure as shit, Rumlow was shooting back. One of Castle’s bullets clipped his shoulder and he staggered back. Bucky was so light headed, he felt himself sway towards his heels.

It was only the jamming of Castle’s gun that had him moving. That was a bad sound, no matter how fucked Bucky was mentally. He pulled out his pistol and took down the remaining brute squad. There was a back door to the room and Bucky knew they had to go search for Pierce or Orange or whoever was behind this shit, but now Rumlow was staring at him with that wild look that was always in his eyes right before Bucky started to hurt.

Rumlow stepped around the chair and popped his neck. “Look who decided to crawl back. And he brought a friend.”

“Pal, do we look very friendly?” Castle snapped. Bucky could see his eyes darting to the back exist, fingers impatient against his gun.

“Go,” he ordered, jerking his chin to the door. “I can handle this fuck.”

Castle started at him for a split second before taking off. Rumlow tried to run after him, but Bucky had a knife in his fingers and had thrown it square at the small of Rumlow’s back before he could get within arm’s length of Castle.

“Not so fast, asshole. You and me are about to talk,” Bucky growled, stalking up on where Rumlow had fallen to his knees. Bucky would give him credit, he yanked the knife out of his own back and struggled to his feet.

“Like you better when you shut the fuck up, Barnes,” Rumlow spat. He was swaying a bit,  but there was still a lot of power behind him, Bucky knew.

“I feel the same way about you.”

“You were supposed to die in the desert.”

“So were you, asshole.”

Rumlow shook his head, maniacal and predatory. “Nah, man. In Hydra, you cut off one head and two more grow back.”

“Not the same fuckin’ head, you dumb son of a bitch,” Bucky snarled before diving at Rumlow and knocking him back. He could tell it hurt. Rumlow was stunned on the ground and Bucky took the chance to drive his human fist into Rumlow’s face until his nose broke.

Rumlow made a feral noise and kicked Bucky off of him. They grappled on the ground together, clawing at each other’s faces and trying to drive limbs into soft spaces.

The metal arm pulled at Bucky’s shoulder and he felt the edge rubbing against the soft skin there. He couldn’t tell if blood or sweat was dripping over his his arm pit and he didn’t care to find out. He shouted as he threw himself at Rumlow again, knocking him to the ground when they'd both tried to stagger to their feet. His metal hand found the wound in Rumlow’s back and he dug his fingers in. He could feel the warmth of the blood, but not the sensation of tearing at the wound, which was good for Bucky’s stomach.

Rumlow groaned under him, driving a knife between the plates of Bucky’s arm. “Fuckin’ robot, piece of shit,” he snarled, kicking Bucky in the stomach so he could clamber away.

“Don’t be jealous you didn’t think of it first,” Bucky wheezed. He yanked the knife out of his arm and the inner plates sparked and tried to calibrate, failing after three attempts.  “You’re a Goddamn traitor to our country,” he said, staring at Rumlow. “A traitor to our unit. You betrayed your brothers. And sister.”

“You had the whole Goddamn government lookin’ for you.  You made it so easy to start picking them off,” Rumlow said, smiling with all teeth.

It sent a pang of regret and anxiety through Bucky’s chest before he shook it off. “No one died looking for me.”

Rumlow shrugged and pulled out a gun faster than Bucky’s eyes could track him. Bucky dove behind a crate just as Rumlow fired at his path.

“This time we won’t be so frugal.”

Bucky didn’t let himself collapse back like he wanted to. He bounced to the balls of his feet and grabbed his pistol before standing and firing at Rumlow quickly. The first two were wide by a mile, but once he spotted Rumlow again, he got a graze and solid shoulder shot in.

It came at the price of a graze at his jaw, though, and he collapsed back to the ground. It wasn’t close enough to hurt him. But his ear was ringing and he could feel the unbalance that had been part of his life for so long now.  He took a deep breath and wiped away the blood before creeping to the other side of the crates. Rumlow was stalking around the side Bucky had dashed to earlier, and it gave Bucky the perfect chance to aim at Rumlow’s head.

He’d killed people before. More than he could remember. It started to blend together when he was hidden away and firing shot after shot to protect his guys. And no one had ever deserved it more than Rumlow. But his finger still hesitated until Rumlow was looking at him, snarling and leaping forward.

Bucky shot and watched the bullet tear through Rumlow’s chest. When Rumlow’s body hit him, it was almost lax. His fingers were barely clutching at Bucky’s jacket, barely holding onto the knife in his hand. A gun clattered by their sides.

This man had stood over Bucky’s body as he spasmed and bled on a terrorist’s operating table. He’d laid bruise upon bruise on Bucky’s body. Yanked his hair so hard, he tore chunks out. Made Bucky scared to go to the fucking bathroom on his own long before all of that. He deserved this.

But, still, Bucky couldn’t get out from under the body fast enough. His heart hammered so hard that he could feel it in his cheeks. He knew he was gasping for air, going light-headed until he fell back. He must have hit his head because he closed his eyes and he had never closed his eyes around Rumlow.

Three shots rang out and Bucky waited for the pain to hit him. _Stupid, stupid,_ he thought, to let his guard down like that. To not finish the mission. He knew how dangerous Rumlow was, even if he was hurt. _Especially_ when he was hurt. But the pain never came and there was a hand on his upper arm, helping him up but not roughly.

“Barnes, what the hell am I going to do with you?” a familiar voice asked before a hand went over his mouth and he blacked out for real.

 

*  * *

 

Bucky woke up in his own bed, which was no small feat to accomplish. Neither had been pulling off his leather jacket and a shirt that was entirely too tight. Or working on getting a bandage around his upper chest. Steve was going to kill her.

Peggy rubbed her hands over her face and then looked at the spy next to her. Natasha looked much calmer than Peggy felt and Peggy didn’t know her well enough to decide if this was a facade or not. She knew Natasha was closer to Bucky than most anyone, but she was also lying to him the whole time they knew each other.

When Bucky finally sat up, hands going to his eyes and rubbing at them, Peggy cleared her throat. He jumped in the bed, but there was a hesitance to it. He knew they were there. He just wasn’t expecting Peggy to make noise.

“You’re on trial for multiple violent crimes and you decided to commit more violent crimes?” Peggy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, you can take the boy out of the war…” Natasha started with a smirk.

“Where is Castle?” Bucky asked. His hands were tense against the bed, spread out slightly. Peggy assumed he was itching to reach for the gun that wasn’t at the side of his bed.

“With his family,” Natasha said evenly. There was a playful tune in her voice and Peggy wondered what her play was, or if she really was just amused by the boys’ antics. “He knows where you are. He got a good nap too.”

And that wasn’t easy either. There were no official records of Castle being enhanced, but it took twice as much chloroform to get Castle down as it did Bucky.

“They were hunting him down. Russo’s already after me. I’m not letting these fuckers take over New York. That’s just not happening.”

Peggy shook her head. “Had anyone else been there tonight, you would be in the Icebox faster than we could call for a retrial.”

“Yeah, well, good men get lost in the good fight. I would rather be locked up than live while they’re on the street.”

Peggy caught Bucky subtly looking for the gun and freezing when he didn’t find it. “Where the hell is Steve?”

“Still on his mission. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him anything,” Natasha promised. She was still lounging in her seat but Peggy was ready to start pacing. Many of the men under her command were hotheads, adrenaline junkies, ready for a fight. But none of them were Bucky Barnes. And certainly none of them were Frank Castle. Peggy thought she could probably handle Bucky on his own, but next to any of his friends, next to Steve even, the boy was unstoppable, uncontrollable.

“What happened to Rumlow?” Bucky asked.

“Put down. Good riddance,” Natasha assured. “But you compromised a years long investigation into criminal and military ties on US soil.”

“We killed terrorists. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t kill them all,” Peggy snapped. She pulled up a file from her Stark pad and turned the hologram around to face Bucky. “A turned agent was there tonight. We don't know his role in this, or who he’s working for, but we had been planning on finding out. His name is Benjamin Poindexter. He’s an assassin that defected from Shield and went rogue. We knew he was taking odd jobs, sometimes for the right people, sometimes for the wrong people. Tonight was the first time we’d get confirmation that he was part of something organized. He was not one of the bodies you and your friend left behind.”

Bucky stared at her, defiant and strong willed. He was so much like Steve that sometimes she could forget which one she was dealing with. He didn't say anything and she hadn’t expected him to. That wouldn’t be the stoic silent way.

“If he’s involved with Russo in anyway, you’re in trouble, Barnes,” Natasha said. Her voice was still light and pitchy, but she was staring at Bucky intently, eyes sharp and bright. Peggy hadn’t worked a lot with Natasha, but she knew she had history with Barnes, more than Peggy could tap into. This was one of the moments Peggy could see it clearly.

“Yeah and why isn’t your super secret spy organization doing anything about him? Why hasn’t he been found? He’s hunting me down and he’s not even on your radar,” Bucky snapped.

“He was!” Peggy answered sharply. “We had eyes on his game tonight and you let it get away.”

“You know what? Maybe I’m fucking tired of having to do all of this on my fucking own. Who the hell are you to waltz into my Goddamn life and start giving me orders? Maybe that works on the _heroes_ you’ve got under your thumb, but you ain’t military and you ain’t in charge of me, alright?!”

Peggy and Natasha stared blandly at him but it didn’t deter him. If anything, he seemed to get recharged.

“And you know what? This _ain’t_ all on me. I fucking refuse to let it be. I’m not the one who blindly sent a team of military operatives—half of who were fucking undercover spies with their own fucking agenda—into the middle of a fucking superhero’s mess. I’m not the one who decided to delay the extraction of a prisoner of war in favor of information gathering. I’m not the one who didn’t stay the military’s fucking court martialing of the man you allowed to be tortured and medically experimented on. None of this is fucking on me. Are you fucking hearing me? I had a Goddamn life. I _did_ good. I was _good_. I had friends and family and I was in love.

“Now my nieces don’t like to hug me and Steve and I have this fucking hole in our trust and I’m missing half my mind and half my fucking body. So don’t you come in here and tell me that I ruined your plans when all I was doing was protecting what fragmented life you ruined in the first Goddamn place.”

“Are you done?” Peggy asked, which only made Bucky visibly seethe more. But she didn’t have time for his dramatics and hissy fits. Lots of people wanted to blame their problems on her and that was their prerogative. And Bucky, more than anyone, deserved to seethe and be angry and demand answers and not want to fight on his own anymore. But at that moment, Peggy couldn’t have the time for it.

“Barnes, your safety is compromised now. If Poindexter didn’t have you in his crosshairs before, now he does for sure. He’s a force even Steve doesn’t understand and I’m not sure that even combined, you two could fight him off together. He’ll strike fast and unexpectedly. The sooner we find Russo, the sooner this gets to end.”

“It’s never going to end, Carter. That’s what you people don’t fucking get. This is so much bigger than Russo. This is bigger than me. This is organized crime like you’ve never seen. And it’s in the streets, and in the government and in the military, and in the private sector,” Bucky growled out. “No one is fucking listening to us. Someone tried to kill Castle. My lawyer is—“ He cut himself off and scowled at the wall.

“What about your lawyer, James?” Natasha asked, the first change in her voice all night. Alert and sharp, probing.

“Fuck you,” he spat out. “I’m going to bed. Get the hell out of my apartment. Oh,” he said suddenly. “Before you go, I don't know where your eyes were tonight, but there was an innocent man being tortured in that warehouse. His brains were coming out of his ears. He died not knowing who the fuck he was. If that’s your play, I’d rather watch your superhero initiative burn to the Goddamn ground.”

“I’ll have Steve home by tomorrow morning, James,” Natasha said, standing fluidly and crossing to the door. “You can fill him in. Until then, don’t leave the apartment. And don’t open your curtains. We’ll keep a security detail on you until we figure out what happened to Poindexter and Russo.”

Then she was gone and Peggy was left with Barnes and he had already turned his back on her. Still, she couldn’t help but stop and stare at the jagged reminders of his fight so far. The burns around his shoulder and the incision lines down his back, over his ribs. He was right. It looked like half of his body was new skin, new prosthetics, new horror.

Peggy was only trying to stop it.

“Sleep, Barnes. Tomorrow is another day,” she said softly, before leaving his room too.

~

Steve had not been thrilled, but Bucky really was past the point of caring. Actually, Steve’s exact words were, “If you’re sure you’re okay, then I’m gonna fist fight you right now,” and Bucky figured he could lie his way out of being okay for a while.

“Don’t hit my face, we have a meeting with Murdock tomorrow. I’m sure I’m okay, though. The arm held up fine. I just had to clean grime out of it for the first time.”

Bucky laid back across the couch and closed his eyes.

“The trial is in three days. We can’t just be careless like that,” Steve said. He sounded like he wanted to be angry, but Bucky knew there was surveillance in the apartment and Steve would’ve watched it and he would’ve hear the argument Bucky gave last night. Bucky thought it was a pretty damn good argument. “I can’t lose you because of something that could’ve been taken care of later.

“Would you take care of it later?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow, though he didn’t open his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re really good at doing the right thing, when it’s right, but not so much when it’s not the right time. The way Castle operates, Murdock, fucking Barton and Romanov, man, it’s on their own schedule. Not when they get orders. Not after stake outs. Castle walked in last night and said I found these bastards an hour ago, let’s go. And, Steve, we were able to stop them! How many times have you pulled up on an empty base? How many times has a mission gotten out and the target fled? It happens to us in the military too. It’s frustrating. But last night, we won.”

“You wouldn’t have if anyone had been watching.”

Bucky licked his lips and shrugged. “I told Carter last night, I’m willing to risk my life if it means protecting people and ending Hydra. They’ve taken too much from me for me to sit back and let them take from other people too.”

Steve sighed loudly and sat beside Bucky, pulling Bucky’s legs into his lap. “You know you’re under house arrest until the trial.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Armed guards at the doors and under the windows. Lasers over the windows. They’re really serious.”

“It’s kind of for your protection. The trial is gathering media buzz.”

“I’ve seen,” Bucky agreed.

Steve sighed again and rubbed Bucky’s legs. “What the fuck am I gonna do with you, Barnes?”

“Feed me, love me, hold me, miss me while I’m out.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “You’re really something.”

“Something you’re in love with.”

“Yeah, and fuck me for that.”

“Well, if you’re offering... I _am_ under house arrest for three days.”

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss Bucky.

 

*  * *

 

“Counsel, remember, you must convince the jury of Major Barnes’ peers that he is not responsible for the charges of conspiracy, aiding the enemy, and murder. Jury of Major Barnes’ peers, you will listen without bias, prejudice, or information you learn, or have learned, outside of this courtroom. If at any point you feel you you cannot uphold this burden, you must immediately recuse yourself.”

As far as Bucky was concerned, the courtroom was entirely too hot. There were too many eyes on him. Every time he shifted in his seat, everyone looked at him again. He wished Steve were next to him, wished he could have a hand in his. The suit was too tight. It was from before everything happened. He’d worn it to a funeral. He couldn’t help but feel like this was his. When Murdock started, Bucky couldn’t look up. He pressed his human thumb over a the crease in his pants before getting distracted by the scab from where he’d chewed the skin raw.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to start these proceedings by thanking you for your service. I’d like to remind everyone involved in this trial, and those who will be hearing things second hand, that Major Barnes is not the only soldier in this room. The only thing I ask in return is that everyone also remembers Major Barnes is a soldier too. But a soldier is not all that the jury, or Major Barnes, is. He is a man, as well. He has a life outside of his service, like all these jury members. We like to imagine that our soldiers are paragons, ideals, and a vague notion, but they are so much more.

“Major Barnes has a sister and two nieces. He swing dances almost every week that he can. Though he doesn’t have a dog of his own, he is almost always pet sitting for someone. His mother was a math teacher, and she passed that passion for numbers onto her son, who cultivated it into a love of engineering. He helped design the prosthetic he is wearing.

“Major Barnes is a good soldier, and a great man. These crimes of which he is accused are not the actions of a good soldier or a great man. Because they are not the actions of Major Barnes. By this point, Major Barnes’ personal hell are well known by all who have a TV and watch the news once in a blue moon. No, really, there was a blue moon a few days ago.”

The scattered chuckles got Bucky to look up and Murdock was looking towards him with a small smile on his face. Bucky didn’t know what he’d said, but he tried to muster up a smile as well.

“The United States Military does not have a definition of brainwashing. In fact, the word does not appear anywhere but in conspiracy theories in regards to the military. However, there is little doubt that what Major Barnes went through was mental manipulation and rehabilitation, or brainwashing. May I call video A1?”

Bucky looked away again. He knew what video A1 was. When the audio of his muffled screaming started, his hands darted to his ears, trying desperately to avoid hearing it again. It would follow him home, into bed. He’d end up sleeping in the bathtub, shivering and crying.

“This device was only called “The Chair” in the documents recovered from the compound that Major Barnes was being tortured in. There was no formal descriptions of its use, or how it works, but these videos don’t leave much to the imagination. Essentially, Major Barnes was electrocuted repeatedly, and spoken to between shocks to be rehabbed into believing what HYDRA wanted him to believe.

“Though not effective in the long term—there are dozens of videos recovered from the three months Major Barnes was held. He was electrocuted almost every three days—it was very effective for convincing Major Barnes he was not being held against his will, and that he was, in fact, with the men he fought for and with. May we pull up file A1 as well?

“These are the profiles of the men so far identified as being the primary torturers. They’re all mid-level HYDRA officials. We will start with the only one in their group to not use a code name. This man’s name is Brock Rumlow. You’ll notice he’s wearing USM fatigues. That is because Rumlow was a primary orchestrator of Major Barnes’ capture and torture. Rumlow has been involved in Major Barnes’ service since they both began basics at the same time in 2006.”

Rumlow was dead in a warehouse. Rumlow was never going to hurt him again. Rumlow was dead, dead, dead. Still, Bucky’s heart kicked up in his chest and he had to fight down his initial reaction to run away as quickly as possible.

“Rumlow’s abuse of Major Barnes began in basics, during which three separate reports of intimidation, physical violence, and stalking were reported about Rumlow towards Major Barnes. In the next years, Major Barnes will find the courage to file a report against Rumlow for continued sexual assault. Records indicate that nothing came of the report, other than to transfer Major Barnes from his squadron to what will eventually become known as the Howling Commandos, the team that Barnes was first injured in action while protecting his team. Complaints from three team members could not get Rumlow removed off the Special Operations Team that Major Barnes was on most recently.

“The rest of this HYDRA team went by code names that matched the names of Major Barnes’ Special Operations Team. This man went by Riley Wiatrek. This one by James Logan. This one by Wade Wilson. None of them, obviously, were Major Barnes’ teammates, but using the names while stressing his mind in such a vicious way gave straining synapses the chance to connect what Barnes knew was true with what he was seeing in front of him. They literally rewired his brain to believe that he was with his team.”

It made Bucky sick. Bucky still couldn’t talk to Logan and Wilson without someone else next to him. He already saw what he’d done to Riley. He couldn’t risk hurting his team like that again.

No, he told himself. Riley was sitting behind him, waiting to testify. Sam had been there every step of the way. Castle, Barton, Romanov, none of them shied away from him. Wade Wilson had even video chatted to tell Bucky thank you for letting him live long enough to know what he’d look like as a mummy—face covered in bandages and wrappings. His team was there for him. He was there for his team.

Something caught his eye and he looked up in time to something dashing past the courtyard window. At first he thought it was just a paparazzi trying to catch someone for a story or whatever, but then the window shattered inwards and Bucky would know a bomb anywhere. He jumped over the counselor’s desk and grabbed the defense team, all three of them, and tumbled them into the first row of seating as he was shouting, “Everyone down!”

The small bomb exploded. Mostly it was smoke but there was a fair amount of force behind it. Enough that it knocked the back of the defense counselor’s desk off and over Bucky as he huddled over the defense team. He shoved the wood away with his metal arm and ushered the team towards the aisle.

“Go! Go! Get out, grab as many people as you can,” Bucky ordered. He coughed on the smoke as he turned and was nailed in the center of the chest with the judge’s gavel. Luckily his sternum and half his ribs were newly reinforced. “That shit don’t work on me anymore, fucker,” Bucky called into the smoke. He dropped to the floor in time to avoid seven shards of splintered wood.

He grabbed the defense counselor’s chair and flung it into the smoke until he heard a ragged ‘umph’. Then he threw himself into the smoke, wrestling the first body he hit to the ground.

“Riley?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“No, dipshit, I’m not attacking your trial,” Riley answered before Bucky could say anything. In another split second, Bucky rolled them both away from where they were.

“I’m so sorry about everything,” Bucky said.

“This is not the time, Barnes,” Riley said, kicking Barnes over his head and somersaulting backwards himself.

“No, I mean, for everything. Avoiding you too. I wasn’t…”

“Bucky, please stop talking,” Riley groaned, diving under the judge’s tabernacle. “You’re giving us away.”

Bucky dove to the other side of the podium and waited to listen for the attacker. “This is important,” he hissed before jumping up and vaulting himself over the podium and into the attacker’s arms.

Something sharp pierced his side, but Bucky had strength on his side and he pinned the man down. For a brief moment anyway, before the man neatly flipped him off. Apparently weight was not strength.

“Well, well, well, Major Barnes,” the man drawled, standing up and stalking around Bucky. Bucky got to his feet too, watching the man warily.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked. Before he could even really understand that the man’s arm was moving, four pieces of shrapnel were in his flesh shoulder, knocking him back.

“I did forget about your little foray into adamantium as well,” he man said. “Else you would’ve already been dead.”

“Sternum. Right. Good damage spot. Lots of small pieces to lodge into lungs.”

The man hummed and shrugged. “I do have my favorites.” He tapped his forehead and Bucky saw a...scar? A brand? Imprinted right there on his skin.

“You have Steve’s shield on your head?” Bucky asked. This time, he deflected the projectiles with his metal arm. Better hand eye coordination now.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Captain America’s shield,” Bucky said. He touched his forehead. “Isn’t that what it is? Sorry you’ve made it kind of fuzzy in here.”

“It’s not a fucking shield. Who’s shield looks like a target?”

“Dude, you’re telling me,” Bucky muttered. He dove into the man at the same time Riley came up behind him. They both crashed into him, knocking him down.  He still managed to stab Bucky in his lower neck, near the scarring of his shoulder, and fuck if that didn’t hurt. Still, while the man gasped for air on the ground, Bucky brought the metal fist down on his face, once, twice, just enough to knock him the fuck out.

~

“You finished the party before I could get there,” Tony whined while Bucky got his wounds patched up in the back of an ambulance.

Bucky shrugged and then hissed at how it pulled at the hole in his side. “It was that or let the psycho kill me,” Bucky said.

Steve was talking with paramedics and police officers and Bucky stared at him. “He knew who the attacker was,” he mused softly.

Tony looked over at Steve. “Why do you say that? Because he kept that perky ass out of the way?”

Bucky shook his head, then thought better of it. “Kind of. This guy...Poindexter. He threw shit. Really well. He hit his target every time, even with the smoke. If Steve had thrown the shield and that guy had gotten it?” Bucky shook his head. “We’d have a few more decapitations to deal with.”

Tony shivered next to him. “You know, I say it in in ads and shit a lot, but you soldiers really are our heroes. You and Riley took that guy out while everyone else ran.”

“They didn't run. They were helping each other. Calling for backup. Keeping their deadly weapons out of the way.” Bucky smiled when Steve looked over and waved with his metal hand because the human one hurt. A lot.

Steve smiled back.

“One of those bastards down, a whole bunch more to go,” Bucky sighed.

“Well, between you and me, Robocop,” Tony said, clapping a hand on Bucky’s thigh after looking at the bandages on both of his shoulders, “I think you’ll be able to handle it.”

~

The trial was rescheduled for a week later. The defense argued something feeble. Bucky supposed it might be hard to call the guy who saved your life a monster for four hours. The trial that was supposed to last for several weeks was over in two hours.

“How does the Jury find Major Barnes?” The judge asked. Bucky stared at a chip in the podium from one of Poindexter’s weapons.

“Your honor, we find Major Barnes not guilty.”

The judge nodded. “And had you found him guilty, I would’ve marked it down as time served,” the judge said. Bucky wondered if that was legal. “Thank you for your service, Major Barnes. Both abroad, and domestically. May you find the peace you fight for.”

Bucky chewed on his lip and didn't smile until he felt Steve’s arms around his waist, the weight of his body hitting Bucky like a train as Steve spun him around.

Then he grinned. “Free.”

 

*  * *

 

Steve didn’t even let Bucky get the door shut behind them before he had Bucky pushed up  against the wall, hands desperate and hot against Bucky’s chest as he ripped the buttons on Bucky’s shirt free. Bucky had his legs around Steve’s waist before the automatic lock clicked off to their side.

Steve managed to loose his mouth from Bucky’s neck long enough to ask, "How does it feel to be a free man, Barnes?”

Bucky ran his hands through Steve’s hair and then pulled his face up to kiss him hard. “Feels like that,” he gasped when he had to part for air. He felt like he could spend the rest of his life kissing Steve and doing nothing else.

“I can get used to that,” Steve said with a grin. “Show me again.” He leaned into Bucky’s space until their lips met again. Bucky pulled at Steve’s shirt until it was around Steve’s elbows and Steve finished pulling it off. He took the separation to lock his mouth on Bucky’s chest and ran his tongue over Bucky’s pectoral, laving attention to his nipple before getting up to Bucky’s collarbones. He alternated kisses and bites up Bucky’s neck and then pressed their foreheads together.

“I can feel your heartbeat in my mouth,” he gasped. And if anything had ever turned Bucky on, it was sure as hell that. Bucky crashed their lips together. He didn’t react when Steve had his arms under Bucky’s ass and started to carry him to the bedroom.

“Watch for the dog,” Bucky warned, half delirious with adrenaline and lust.

Steve laughed in his arms. “He’s with Clint. Don’t worry about him.” He got his mouth back on Bucky’s neck and Bucky moaned, dropping his face into Steve’s hair.

Steve dropped Bucky on the bed and Bucky didn’t even care that the door was still open. He just worked on kicking his shoes off and shoving his slacks down. Anything that reminded him of the fucking courtroom had to go. He never wanted to smell that clean again. He needed to go to a burger joint in the suit to sanitize it again.

Steve pulled Bucky’s pants the rest of the way off and pulled Bucky’s legs open, leaning down to kiss the inside of his thighs reverently. Bucky shoved his fingers through Steve’s hair and held his head down until Bucky’s thighs were trembling and his stomach was sore.

Steve grinned up at him, lips swollen and slick and it was enough to set Bucky off, coming in his boxers to the sound of Steve chuckling. “That’s embarrassing, Barnes,” he purred, working his way over Bucky’s body.

“Fuck you, Rogers. You did this to me,” he groaned. Steve ground his hips into Bucky’s and worked on marking his neck. Bucky moaned again, fingers tightening in Steve’s hair. “You’re still in your damn pants. Take them off,” he muttered.

“More interested in getting you naked now. Don’t want to overwhelm you again,” he teased lowly, fingers tight on Bucky’s hip. He ground their hips together again before pulling Bucky’s boxers down, eyes sharp on Bucky’s as he lowered his head to kiss down Bucky’s happy trail and then lick the mess from the sensitive skin of his groin.

Bucky moaned like he was getting paid to and hitched his hips into Steve’s face, fingers going back to Steve’s hair.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Steve groaned, shifting his hands to Bucky’s ass to pull him closer. It was the hottest thing Bucky had ever scene—Steve had a way of constantly beating his own records—but Bucky still had to laugh and look away.

“Baby, baby, wipe your face off. Fuck, I can’t look at you like that,” he managed to get out, throwing a pillow at Steve. “You’re just...fuck, you’re covered in…” He giggled again and covered his eyes with a hand.

He was still high on adrenaline and relief and, God, he was safe for now. He’d saved lives last week. He’d done good. And now he was in his apartment with Steve, holding him, laughing. This got to be his life now.

Steve buried his face in the pillow and when he lifted it again, he looked even more debauched than before. Which really shouldn’t be the case after he’d wiped come _off_ of his face. But he was also ripping off a dress shirt like Clark Kent had just heard there were nine kittens and orphans stuck in trees around the city, and his pants were next, and Steve had shoved his face back into Bucky’s crotch as he wormed out of them. When he looked up again, Bucky’s stomach flipped over like a school kid’s with a crush. “You’re mine now, doll. My free man.”

The words washed over Bucky and collapsed back into the bed as Steve got over him, straddling his hips and grinding down on Bucky. Bucky’s hand automatically went to Steve’s thighs and he was so fucking happy, he didn’t even pay attention to the mismatched set. He was too focused on the expanse of Steve’s skin, the swell of his pecs, the slope of his narrow hips. He was a study in contradictions and he was all Bucky’s now.

Jesus, Bucky couldn’t believe he’d almost lost this. Steve was sinking down on Bucky’s cock, head thrown back, lip between his teeth like some kind of porno movie. Except he’d forgotten about the bottle of lube in his hand and it was spilling on the comforter and there were clothes creases under his arms, and he was so, so, so real. He was Bucky’s.

Bucky leaned over to press his mouth to Steve’s arm until Steve moved his hands to Bucky’s chest, holding himself up and then moving to the erratic rhythm of Bucky’s heart. It was a good thing he was doing all the work because Bucky was too busy staring at his face, at the corded muscles in his neck, at the ripple of his chest, his shoulders. It was overwhelming and Bucky wasn’t sure he could make his body move, except to follow Steve when he rolled his hips up, away from Bucky.

In the needy flurry of adrenaline and relief, neither of them lasted long. Steve came over Bucky’s chest, something strong and powerful that had him losing control enough to slide off of Bucky’s cock. The sudden burst of cold and release had Bucky coming over the small of Steve’s back, along his spine.

Steve collapsed next to Bucky on the bed, half over his body, spreading their mess everywhere. It was fine. They needed to wash the sheets anyway, Bucky tried to reason. He tilted his head down to kiss Steve softly, sucking Steve’s lower lip between both of his own.

“I can’t believe this is over,” Steve whispered softly, brushing Bucky’s hair out of his face.

“For now,” Bucky warned. It didn’t feel over for him. It felt like it was just beginning. Like there were a million more obstacles to face in the future. Russo was still out there. And seeing Rumlow again made him uneasy. If he and Frank were...enhanced in the military, who was to say no one else was? And...it had felt good, working with Frank to take out that group. Frank had recuperated already. Hell, Bucky was pretty sure he tracked down more of those bastards as soon as Carter had her eye off of him. Even if this was the end of the trial, it wasn’t the end of Hydra. It wasn’t the end of his involvement in Hydra, or the conspiracy around him.

But for right now, it wasn’t the end of him and Steve. He wasn’t going to jail. This apartment was still his. Patriot would be home in the morning and they’d make breakfast beforehand. He still got to shower with Steve. That giant tub was still theirs. He pulled Steve closer and sealed his mouth over Steve’s again.

“You’re mine now, Stevie. Ain’t no gettin’ rid of me,” he murmured.

Steve growled out his assent and shifted between Bucky’s legs again, working a hand under him to stretch Bucky out. Bucky laid back and let him, focused on the feeling of Steve’s fingers, on the blush that still spread all the way down to his nipples, on muscles and calluses he knew by heart. This was a lot better than trying to imagine it all back in the Raft, he thought.

Steve leaned over him, entirely too soon. Bucky could spend all night with Steve’s fingers in him, stretching him open, teasing him. But, well, Steve slowly working his cock into Bucky’s ass wasn’t terrible either. And he was being so sweet and slow, hands gentle on Bucky’s body, mouth moving over the scars on his shoulder.

Steve kept a hand on the small of Bucky’s back, keeping their bodies close, even when the pace was slow. Bucky felt like the most adored creature on Earth. He let Steve kiss his neck, the corner of his mouth, his cheekbones until it finally got to be too much and Bucky had to hold Steve’s face still to kiss him properly.

Steve laughed, soft and low, just a little teasing “Yeah, doll, whatever you want,” he murmured, kissing Bucky back and reaching back to pull one of Bucky’s legs over his waist. The one with the scar. Which he got distracted tracing until he almost fell on Bucky when he lost his balance.

They stared at each other for a second before laughing and pressing close to each other. They kept at it all night long.

 

*  * *

 

By two weeks later, something was wrong. Bucky could tell. They’d spent the night at the Tower after attending one of Tony’s galas but when Bucky woke up, Steve was gone and the AI was being particularly non-forthcoming about his whereabouts. Bucky tried to act normal. He made eggs for breakfast, though his human hand shook as he ate them and they tasted as bland as oatmeal. He started a load of laundry that had piled up around the suite. He even read the book Riley had insisted he start.

Still, he was ready when Steve came through the door, casting off clothes as quickly as he was pulling the Captain America suit on. Bucky knew Captain America didn’t get called out for much, so he was worried. And worried he’d be asked to go. Vigilante shit with Castle was one thing, the Avengers? That was another.

“Are you leaving?” he asked when Steve stopped long enough in the living room.

He nodded jerkily before Bucky pointed to the open shelf under the plants. “Boots are over there,” he said. Steve made a sound of thanks and pulled them on before crossing to Bucky and kissing his forehead.

“I’ll be back. Don’t try to contact me, alright?”

“So long as you’re not going ghost” Bucky said. Steve grabbed his hand to kiss his knuckles.

“I’m coming back. I promise.”

Then he was gone and Bucky’s as left with half of his anxiety about the morning bleeding out and new anxiety over taking it.

He lasted all over twenty four hours before he asked, “Jarvis, what are they doing?”

“They are in Somalia fighting Wiccan created earth monsters,” the AI replied. “Captain Rogers specifically asked me not to tell you that, but Master Stark wrote in an Avengers security override for you.”

“He wants me to know what Steve’s doing that badly?”

“I believe he would just like you to know what the Avengers are doing, so that you may join, if you so wish.”

Bucky hummed and went back to reading.

He lasted another twelve hours before he asked again. “What’s it looking like out there for them, Jar?”

“Well, Master Stark’s communications systems keep going in and out. I do not believe the situation is under control. Should I ready a jet for you, sir?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not yet, Jar. Let’s see what they do.”

But at that point he only lasted six hours before he asked for an update and then asked for a jet.

Fuck superheroes, right? That’s what all his buddies said while they got blown up and Tony Stark got Nike deals.

But, well, Bucky was kind of fucking a superhero and kind of a fucking superhero so ‘fuck superheros’ wasn’t a good life motto anymore, unless he was saying it while commandeering a jet from a superhero to go save superhero asses.

What the fuck was his life?

 

*  * *

 

Steve had blacked out plenty of times in his life. One time, he ran into a door frame and knocked himself out when he was three. Countless times, guys twice his size had gotten a lucky shot in and knocked him right out. And more times than not, he usually found himself coming to on a battlefield and scrambling for the shield before anyone noticed. So, he wasn’t that surprised when he opened his eyes and found himself sprawled over the ground, the shield coming in and out of focus just a few feet away, jammed side down in the dirt so it stood up.

He tried to lift himself up, fists shoved against the ground, willing the pain to go away. It was pretty moot. He collapsed with a puff of dust around him. Still, he tried to grab for the shield, only to catch dark tac pants making their way to the shield, military issue boots confident and quick. Steve saw a tan arm snatch the shield and throw it away with such a fierceness that Steve wondered if they had actually been using the shield all this time and not him.

The mystery soldier didn’t quite catch the shield when it came back, knocking it to the ground instead before bending to grab it and going toe to toe with one of the alien things that had crawled out of the ground. Steve could hear snarling and snapping and grunting. The effort the soldier was putting in was astounding and Steve couldn’t even recognize their legs. What kind of team leader was he?

Ten minutes later, his head was still spinning and he still hadn’t succeeded in getting his feet under him. The soldier walked back over. There was none of his quick footed twists and turns. He didn’t walk on his toes like he ran. In fact, he was almost dragging his feet through the dirt. The shield fell to the ground and the soldier offered his hand down to Steve. Steve finally looked up, following the arm to a shoulder, and then to a neck, and a jaw, and finally a face.

His heart stuttered in his chest. “Buck? Fuck, am I dead? Am I hallucinating you?” he asked, even as he was reaching for Bucky’s hand and letting him pull him to his feet. Steve fell against Bucky’s chest and Bucky eventually just pulled him into a fireman’s hold.

“Bet I’m the strongest hallucination you’ve ever seen” he joked and Steve snorted before letting himself pass out again.

 

*  * *

 

One time, Bucky’s first roommate overdosed in their living room and Bucky had to ride in the ambulance to give the paramedics the information they needed to save the idiot’s life. He ended up staying by the guy’s bedside for most of his recovery, just on virtue of being the only person in the whole hospital who knew anything about him. And it got him some paid time off before his next leave.

Bedside vigils weren’t new to him. His father had been an alcoholic who ended up in the hospital more times than he was out of it during Bucky’s first few leaves. He and his girlfriend in high school were constantly breaking bones being too reckless on dirt bikes and racing cars. And there hadn’t been a time he missed coming to spend too much time with any of the Howlies whenever they ended up in the hospital. And nowadays he was sneaking food in for Clint and pants in for Nat and handcuff keys in for Castle.

Still, sitting in the hard plastic chair and staring at Steve was different than anyone else he’d had to sit by. Nerves buzzed under his skin and a low grade stress headache pounded at his temples and brow bones. Logically, he knew there was nothing he could do about any of it but still he wanted to be doing something. He wanted to grab the shield one more time, take out a few more creepy-crawly-bastards. Something more productive than sitting here, getting a backache.

They’d said Steve had had a bad concussion. Though, with the serum, they thought he’d be fine in a day or so. Bucky was new to the serum, but he wasn’t new to concussions and when they let Steve sleep, it kick started his heart until Sam assured him it was fine. It was the rest of the damage to his body that was going to take a while to fix because he couldn’t walk away from a fight, instead letting himself get more and more broken.

In three days, Sam and Riley had both been in and out. They picked up ‘sneaking in food’ duty and Bucky was thankful. He didn’t want to leave the hospital and he was more than tired of the cafeteria. Hammond showed up, but not McKenzie, though Bucky couldn’t blame him. He deserved to stay in the water for however much longer he needed. Clint and Natasha sent their best and promised to stop by when they could bug Steve himself. Carter had spent a good part of her time in the room with Bucky but ducked out a few hours ago to go back to her super secret job. She’d kissed Steve’s cheek gently, giving it the first red tint it’d had in a while, and then did the same to Bucky, startling him out of a half daze.

“You’re a good man, James Barnes. You and Steve are lucky to have each other.” She held the side of his face and brushed a thumb over his cheek.

Bucky let his eyes close and he leaned into her hand. “He adores you too,” he said finally.

“And he’s right to,” Carter answered with a smile. “He has good taste in people. Let him know I wish him a speedy recovery, not that he wasn’t going to have that anyway.”

Bucky nodded and let her walk away. Since then, he’d barely stopped watching Steve. If he looked away, it was to read out of the stupid torn paperback Steve carried everywhere and had had on the helicarrier before the battle. Bucky was hardly even absorbing the words, barely managing to mutter, “And the Lionheart, king of the land, stood in front of his soldiers, broken and haggard, and said to them--”

So he nearly dropped the book when suddenly someone else said, “Rise and rise again, until lambs become lions.” Steve’s head dipped to the side so he could stare at Bucky, a grin coming to his bruised face. “You know, it wasn’t in any of the original poems and plays. It was added after the movie. Richard the Third never even said anything like that. It’s from a different poem entirely,” he muttered. He cringed as he shifted in the bed and Bucky reached out a hand to keep him still. “Still… It’s my favorite line. I loved it in the movie. I think it really...encapsulates the character.” He let out a small breath and dropped his head back into the pillow.

Bucky stared at him, unable to believe he was awake and moving and _talking_. “Really? That’s gonna be your first words? You almost died. I had to carry you out of an active battle site and you wanna give me a literature lecture?”

“Consider us even. You thought I was your mom after I carried you out of an active battle site.”

Bucky snorted and it caused that small smirk to make its way to Steve’s face before he was laughing and Bucky was too. “God, we’re a fucking pair,” Bucky muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought you were some avenging angel when you grabbed the shield,” Steve admitted softly.

“An angel all in black, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that. Comin’ outta the dust like that.”

“Were you alive during the dust bowl?” Bucky asked. When Steve forced his eyes open again, the smirk he could hear in Bucky’s voice was right there.

“Actually,” Steve realized with a deprecating snort, “yeah. I was in my teens. But I lived in New York. We were just hungry all the damn time. Comes with being poor.”

Bucky snorted and nodded. “Know that feeling.”

“What were you doing out there? How did you get there?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “You know, Stark shouldn’t’ve given his AI so much personality. I think he likes me. Just got him to tell me where you were and let me into a jet.”

Steve scoffed and shook his head. “I shoulda known it was dangerous to leave you in that tower alone.”

“I do have a habit of getting my way, don’t I?” Bucky hummed, smirking slightly.

Steve rolled his eyes and reached for Bucky’s hand. “I can’t believe that was you. The way you reacted after the trial...I thought you’d never fight again.”

“I didnt plan too,” Bucky said as he brought Steve’s hand up to his mouth. “But you know how bad I am at sitting back and letting the action happen without me.”

Steve snorted and nodded his agreement. “I think a lot of people are familiar with that. You were such a pro out there. And the shield responded to you better than anyone else who’s ever tried to use it.”

Bucky blushed and shrugged. “It felt natural. I’ve seen you in action so many times that I just felt like I knew what I had to do.” That, and it was either leave Steve out there alone or throw the damn shield at a whole bunch of monsters. And that really wasn’t a choice at all.

“How long have I been out?” Steve asked as he scrubbed his other hand over his face. Bucky was still reeling over him waking up, talking about pointless things, making little movements like that. He hadn’t realized how much the past few days had been weighing on him. Why did they keep coming so close with losing each other? He didn’t know how much more his heart could take.

“Three days,” he said instead of thinking even more. “Give or take a handful of hours.”

“So have they already badgered you to join the team?” Steve asked.

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “I think brainwashed assassin is too much, even for these shits.”

Steve shrugged, and then grimaced. “You never know. They might get desperate.”

“Oh, is it desperation that makes me attractive?” Bucky teased.

“Hell yeah. I hadn’t had sex in a hundred years when I met you,” Steve answered with a grin. He squeezed Bucky’s hand and then struggled to sit up.

“Woah, wait, I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that yet,” Bucky warned.

“Just...wanna look at you some more,” Steve muttered. “And I like this song.”

Bucky glanced over at his phone. It was playing the playlist Sam had made called ‘things Grandpa America would jam to’ and the song was an Ella Fitzgerald song called ‘Cheek to Cheek’.

Bucky sat on the bed next to Steve, holding both of Steve’s hands in his before he slowly looped Steve’s arms around Bucky’s waist and got his arms around Steve’s neck. He leaned in so they were pressed cheek to cheek and let out a small breath against Steve’s neck.

Steve pressed closer into him too. “Well it’s certainly not a dance hall on Thursday.”

“Or a club on Saturday,” Bucky laughed.

“But at least I’m with you.”

“Through all the damn odds of it all, I’m with you. ‘Til the end of the line, pal.”

Steve nodded, scratching stubble against stubble. “‘Til the end of the line,” he agreed.

 

[End Part Three]

**Author's Note:**

> Again, nothing but praise and kudos and exhalations to my wonderful artists [WalkingStardust](http://walkingstardust.tumblr.com/) and [Childofwintre](http://childofwintre.tumblr.com/) They're both co-creators on this as well, so give them a look around. They were so amazing through the entire process and made me so much excited about this epic that I already loved
> 
> As always, I am [AbarbaricYalp](http://abarbaricyalp.tumblr.com) and down to talk about Bucky, Frank, Howlies, Invaders, Steve, Sam, Riley, Murdock, and my newest tag along, Ben Poindexter (Bullseye)


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